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WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14580 

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CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHIVI/ICIVIH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  Instituta  for  Historical  ISflicroraproductions 


inttitut  Canadian  da  microrapr^ductiona  hiatoriquaa 


1980 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notes/Notes  techniques  et  bibliographiques 


The  Institute  has  attempted  to  obtain  the  best 
original  copy  available  for  filming.  Features  of  this 
copy  which  may  be  bibliographically  unique, 
which  may  alter  any  of  the  images  in  the 
reproduction,  or  which  may  significantly  change 
the  usual  method  of  filming,  are  checked  below. 


D 


D 


D 


n 

D 
D 


n 


Coloured  covers/ 
Couverture  de  couleur 


I      I    Covers  damaged/ 


Couverture  endommagde 


Covers  restored  and/or  laminated/ 
Couverture  restaurie  et/ou  pellicul6e 


I      I    Cover  title  missing/ 


Le  titre  de  couverture  manque 

Coloured  maps/ 

Cartes  gdographiques  en  couleur 


□    Coloured  ink  (i.e.  other  than  blue  or  black)/ 
Encre  de  couleur  (i.e.  autre  que  bleue  ou  noire) 


D 


Coloured  plates  and/or  illustrations/ 
Planches  et/ou  illustrations  en  couleur 


Bound  with  other  material/ 
Reli6  avec  d'autres  documents 

Tight  binding  may  cause  shadows  or  distortion 
along  interior  margin/ 

La  failure  serr^e  peut  causer  de  I'ombre  ou  de  la 
distortion  le  long  de  la  marge  intirieure 

Blank  leaves  added  during  restoration  may 
appear  within  the  text.  Whenever  possible,  these 
have  been  omitted  from  filming/ 
II  se  peut  que  certaines  pages  blanches  ajoutdes 
lors  d'une  restauration  apparaissent  dans  le  texte, 
mais,  lorsque  cela  6tait  possible,  ces  pages  n'ont 
pas  6t6  filmies. 

Additional  comments:/ 
Commentaires  suppl6mentaires: 


L'Institut  a  microfilm6  le  meilleur  exemplaire 
qu'il  lui  a  6t6  possible  de  se  procurer.  Les  details 
de  cet  exemplaire  qui  sont  peut-Atre  uniques  du 
point  de  vue  bibliographique,  qui  peuvent  modifier 
une  image  reproduite,  ou  qui  peuvent  exiger  une 
modification  dans  la  m6thode  normale  de  filmage 
sont  indiqu6s  ci-dessous. 


I      I    Coloured  pages/ 


Pages  de  couleur 

Pages  damaged/ 
Pages  endommag^es 

Pages  restored  and/oi 

Pages  restaurdes  et/ou  pelliculdes 

Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxe( 
Pages  d6color6es,  tachetdes  ou  piqudes 

Pages  detached/ 
Pages  d6tach6es 

Showthrough/ 
Transparence 

Quality  of  prir 

Quality  in6gale  de  I'impression 

Includes  supplementary  materia 
Comprend  d'l  materiel  supplementaire 


I  I  Pages  damaged/ 

I  I  Pages  restored  and/or  laminated/ 

I  I  Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxed/ 

I  I  Pages  detached/ 

rr^  Showthrough/ 

I  I  Quality  of  print  varies/ 

I  I  Includes  supplementary  material/ 


Only  edition  available/ 
Seule  Edition  disponible 

Pages  wholly  or  partially  obscured  by  errata 
slips,  tissues,  etc.,  have  been  refilmed  to 
ensure  the  best  possible  image/ 
Les  pages  totalement  ou  partiellement 
obscurcies  par  un  feuillet  d'errata,  une  pelure, 
etc.,  ont  6t6  filmdes  d  nouveau  de  fapon  d 
obtenir  la  meilleure  image  possible. 


This  item  is  filmed  at  the  reduction  ratio  checked  below/ 

Ce  document  est  film^  au  taux  de  rMuction  indiqu*  ci-dessous. 

10X  14X  18X  22X 


26X 


30X 


J 


12X 


16X 


20X 


24X 


28X 


32X 


tails 

du 
Ddifier 

une 
mage 


The  copy  filmed  here  has  been  reproduced  thanks 
to  the  generosity  of: 

Library  of  the  Public 
Archives  of  Canada 

The  images  appearing  here  are  the  best  quality 
possible  considering  the  condition  and  legibility 
of  the  original  copy  and  in  Iceeping  with  the 
filming  contract  specifications. 


L'exemplaire  filh-:6  fut  reproduit  grflce  A  ia 
g^n^rositA  de: 

La  bibliothdque  des  Archives 
publiques  du  Canada 

Les  images  suivantes  ont  6tA  reproduites  avec  le 
plus  grand  soin,  compte  tenu  de  la  condition  et 
de  la  nettetA  de  l'exemplaire  film6,  et  en 
conformity  avec  les  conditions  du  contrat  de 
filmage. 


Original  copies  in  printed  paper  covers  are  filmed 
beginning  with  the  front  cover  and  ending  on 
the  last  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
sion, or  the  back  cover  when  appropriate.  All 
other  original  copies  are  filmed  beginning  on  the 
first  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
sion, and  ending  on  the  last  page  with  a  printed 
or  illustrated  impression. 


Les  exemplaires  originaux  dont  la  couverture  en 
papier  est  imprim^e  sont  filmis  en  commenpant 
par  le  premier  plat  et  en  terminant  soit  par  la 
derniAre  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration,  soit  par  le  second 
plat,  salon  le  cas.  Tous  les  autres  exemplaires 
originaux  sont  filmis  en  commenpant  par  la 
premiere  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration  et  en  terminant  par 
la  derniire  page  qui  comporte  une  telle 
empreinte. 


The  last  recorded  frame  on  each  microfiche 
shall  contain  the  symbol  — ^>  (meaning  "CON- 
TINUED"), or  the  symbol  V  (meaning  "END"), 
whichever  applies. 


Un  des  symboles  suivants  apparaUra  sur  la 
derniAre  image  de  cheque  microfiche,  selon  le 
cas:  le  symbols  — ►  signifie  "A  SUIVRE  ",  le 
symbols  V  signifie  "FIN". 


Maps,  plates,  charts,  etc.,  may  be  filmed  at 
different  reduction  ratios.  Those  too  large  to  be 
entirely  included  in  one  exposure  are  filmed 
beginning  in  the  upper  left  hand  corner,  left  to 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  as  many  frames  as 
required.  The  following  diagrams  illustrate  the 
method: 


Les  cartes,  planches,  tableaux,  etc.,  peuvent  dtre 
filmis  d  des  taux  de  reduction  diff6rents. 
Lorsque  le  document  est  trop  grand  pour  dtre 
reproduit  en  un  seul  clich6,  il  est  film6  A  partir 
de  Tangle  sup6rieur  gauche,  de  gauche  d  droite. 
et  de  haut  en  bas.  en  prenant  le  nombre 
d'images  nicessaire.  Les  diagrammes  suivants 
illustrent  la  m6thode. 


rrata 
to 


pelure, 

n  d  { 


□ 


32X 


1 

2 

3 

1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

S9H 


THE   WORKS 


OF 


HUBERT  HOWE  BANCROFT 


- 


//^-.-^^/^  /f-/?^ 


ft.  ^  '^^  a  ^  -) 


-/<^ 


11  i:        .OIJK.S 


or 


inniLnT  iiowj]  lUNOJioiT 


'ly-i:    :xxix 


r JTKR A  i  lY   TXDTTSTKIES 


'y':lE    .fIST(M   V 


FRANnsCO 
MT'AVV,    PlBLrSHEfiS 


M^0^' 


'■^c.<- 


THE  WOEKS 


or 


HUBERT  HOWE  BANCROFT 


VOLUME    XXXIX 


LITERARY   INDUSTRIES 


SAN  FRANCISCO 
THE   HISTORY  COMPANY,   PUBLISHERS 

1890 


Entered  apcorrtlng  to  Act  of  f'DiigrcHs  In  the  yonr  18!I0,  by 

HUBERT  H.  BAN(;R0FT, 
In  the  Ofllce  of  the  Mbruriiin  of  CoiiKrcss,  at  WashliiBton. 


All  lihjhta  Rtsti-ved. 


CONTENTS  OF  THIS  VOLUME. 

CHAPTER  I.  TAGK. 

THE     FIELD ^  , 

CHAPTER   II. 

■I  UK     ATMOSrilERE j„ 

CHAPTER   III. 

SI'KIXdS    AN D  UTTLE  KKOOKS 4., 

CHAPTER   IV. 

TJIE    COUNTRY    BOY   BECOMES    A    BOOKSELLER gj) 

CHAPTER  V. 

HAIL      CALIFORNIA  1      ESTO      PEEPETUA 1  nn 

CHAPTER   VI. 

THE  HOUSE    OF    H.    H.    BANCROFT   AND    COMPANY l^.i 

CHAPTER   VII. 

FROM     BIBLIOPOLIST     TO     BIBLIOPTIILE jy;^ 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE  LIBRARY .,. 

CHAPTER   IX. 

DESPERATE    ATTEMPTS    AT    GREAT   THINGS ,   jj 

(V) 


■Ik 


Vi  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER   X.  PAGE. 

A     LITERAIIY     WOItliSUOI' 230 

CHAPTER  XI. 

.SDMK   OF    MY    ASSISTANTS O-lj 

CHAPTER   XII. 

MY  KIliST  HOOK 277 

CHAPTER   XIII. 

THE    I'ElilLS    OF     i'LlU.ISlllNd 307 

CHAPTER   XIV. 

A    LITKKAUV     riL.:UIM 32(J 

CHAPTER  XV. 

niE     TWO     OKNKKALS 3(;5 

CHAPTER   XVI. 

riAI.IA.\  SlliATK(iY 3S;} 

CHAPTER    XVII. 

ALVAKADO     AND     CASIliO 407 

CHAPTER   XVIII. 
CLOSE  oi'   Tin:   cKKiiirn-VAr.LEJo   cami-awn 428 

CPIAPTER    XIX. 

HOME 44(J 

CHAPTER   XX. 
sax     FiiANcrsco     AiiciiiVKs 4G8 

CHAPTER   XXI. 

HISTORIC   UKSKAHCUKS    IN   TUK    SOUlll 473 

CHAPTER  XXII. 

insTOlUC    EXri-OUAlIO.NS    .Nt)UTIl\VARD      ..........      530 


i   'i 


f> 


COXTENTa  vii 

CHAPTER    XXIII. 

iniRXUER     tlBRARY     DETAIL       . 

•     •     .     .     .    56:; 

CIIArXER   XXIV. 

MY  METHOD  OP  WKITINO     UMTOKY _0. 

CHAPTER   XXV. 

FtJRTHEli     INOATJIKUlNGa       .       .  ^    „ 

•       •       .       .       .      CIS 

CHAPTER  XXVI. 

l-ilKLIMIN-AKY     AND  SiriTLE.MEN-TAL     VOLUMES gjQ 

CHAPTER  XXVII. 

BODY     AND     MIND      .       .       . 

664 

CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

EXrEDITIONS   TO    MEXICO       . 

700 

CHAPTER  XXIX. 

TOWARD  THE    END      . 

752 

CHAPTER  XXX. 

L'URNED    out!     .       . 

769 

CHAPTER  XXXI. 

THE  UI3TORT  COBIPAinr    AS»    'i-HE   BANCROFr  COMP.iinr 78S 


LITEKAPvY  IXDUSTRIES. 


CHAPTER   I. 

THE  FIELD. 

Wliiuh  gives  me 
A  more  content  in  course  ot  true  delight 
lluui  to  he  thirsty  iifter  tottering  honour, 
Or  tie  my  iileasure  up  in  silken  bags, 
io  please  the  fool  and  death. 

Pericles. 

This  volume  closes  the  narrative  portion  of  my 
historical  series;  there  yet  remains  to  be  completed 
the  biograpliical  section. 

It  is  now  over  thirty  years  since  I  entered  upon 
the   task  to-day  accomplished.     During  this  period 
my  efforts  have  been  continuous.     Sickness  and  death 
have  made  felt  their  presence;  financial  storms  have 
swept  over  the  land,  leaving  ghastly  scars;  calamities 
more  or  less  severe  have  at  various  times  called  at 
my  door;  yet  have  I  never  been  wholly  overwhelmed 
or  roaclicd  a  point  where  was  forced  upon  me  a  cessa- 
tion ol  library  labors,  even  for  a  single  day.     Nor  has 
my  work   been   irksome;  never  have  I  lost  interest 
or  enthusiasm;  never  have  I  regretted  the  consecra- 
tion of  my  life  to  this  cause,  or  felt  that  mv  al)ilities 
might  have  been  better  emploved  in  some  o'ne  of  the 
great  enterprises  attending  the  material  development 
ot  this  western  world,  or  in  accumulatiiur  property 
which  was  never  a  difficult  thing   for  me'^to  do      It 
has  been   from  first  to  last  a  labor  of  love,  its  im- 
portance ever  standing  before  me  paramount 'to  that 
of   any  otlier  undertaking  in  which   I  could  enoace 
while  of  this  world's  goods  I  have  felt  that  f  had 


T 


2  THE  FIELD. 

always  my  share,  and  liavc  been  ready  to  thank  God 
for  tlie  means  necessary  to  carry  forward  my  vvoi-k  to 
its  full  completion.  And  while  keerd}'  alive  to  my  lack 
of  ability  to  perform  the  task  as  it  ought  to  be  done, 
I.  have  all  the  time  been  conscious  that  it  were  a  thou- 
sand times  better  it  should  be  done  as  I  could  do  it 
than  not  at  all. 

What  was  this  task  ?  It  was  first  of  all  to  save 
to  the  world  a  mass  of  valuable  human  experiences, 
which  otherwise,  in  the  hurry  and  scramble  attend- 
ing the  securing  of  wealth,  power,  or  ])lace  in  this 
new  field  of  enterprise,  would  have  drop[)od  out 
of  existence.  These  experiences  were  all  the  more 
valuable  from  the  fact  that  they  were  new;  the  con- 
ditions attending  their  origin  and  evolution  never  had 
before  existed  in  the  history  of  mankind,  and  never 
could  occur  again.  There  was  here  on  tins  coast  the 
ringing-up  of  universal  intelligence  for  a  final  display 
of  what  man  can  do  at  his  best,  with  all  the  powers 
of  the  past  united,  and  surrounded  by  conditions 
such  as  had  never  before  fallen  to  the  lot  of  man  to 
enjoy. 

Secondly,  having  secured  to  the  race  a  vast  amount 
of  valuable  knowledge  which  otherwise  would  have 
passed  into  oblivion,  my  next  task  was  to  extract 
from  this  mass  what  would  most  interest  people 
in  history  and  biography,  to  properly  classify  and 
arrange  the  same,  and  then  to  write  it  out  as  a  his- 
torical  series,  in  the  form  of  clear  and  condensed 
narrative,  and  so  place  within  the  reach  of  all  this 
gathered  knowledge,  which  otherwise  were  as  nmch 
beyond  the  reach  of  the  outside  world  as  if  it  never 
had  been  saved.  Meanwhile  the  work  of  collect- 
ing continued,  while  1  erected  a  refuge  of  safety  for 
the  final  preservation  of  the  library,  in  the  form 
of  a  fire-proof  brick  building  on  Valencia  street,  in 
the  city  of  San  Francisco.  Finally,  it  was  deemed 
necessary  to  add  a  biographical  section  to  the  history 
proper,  in  order  that  the  builders  of  the  coumion- 


INEXORABLE  FATE. 


wealtlis  on  this  coast  mi<j^Iit  have  as  full  and  fair 
treatment  as  the  work  of  their  hands  was  receiving. 

Not  that  the  plan  in  all  its  completeness  arose 
in  my  mind  as  a  whole  in  the  first  instance.  Had 
it  so  presented  itself,  and  with  no  alternative,  I 
never  should  have  had  the  courage  to  undertake  it. 
It  was  because  I  was  led  on  by  my  fate,  following 
blindly  in  paths  where  there  was  no  returning,  that  I 
finally  became  so  lost  in  my  labors  that  my  only  way 
out  was  to  finish  them.  Wherefore,  although  I  am  not 
conscious  of  superstition  in  my  nature,  I  cannot  but 
feel  that  in  this  ffreat  work  I  was  but  the  humble  in- 
strument  of  some  power  mightier  than  I,  call  it  provi- 
dence, fate,  environment,  or  what  you  will.  All  the 
ori<»'inatin<2fs  of  essential  ideas  and  acts  connected  with 
the  work  grew  out  of  the  necessities  of  the  case,  and 
were  not  in  the  main  inventions  of  mine,  as  this  volume 
will  show.  That  I  should  leave  my  home  and  friends  at 
the  east  and  come  to  this  coast  an  unsophisticated  boy, 
having  in  hand  and  mind  the  great  purpose  of  secur- 
ing to  a  series  of  commonwealths,  destined  to  be  sec- 
ond in  intelligence  and  importance  to  none  the  sun 
has  ever  shone  upon,  more  full  and  complete  early 
historical  data  than  any  government  or  people  on  earth 
enjoy  to-day,  is  not  for  a  moment  to  be  regarded  as 
the  facts  of  the  case.  It  was  the  vital  expression  of 
a  compelling  energy. 

Nor  is  it  out  of  place,  this  referring  of  our 
physical  unfoldings  to  the  undeterminable  for  expla- 
nation, for  it  is  only  since  the  world  has  been  so 
plainly  told  that  it  sees  somewhat  of  the  action  and 
eflfect  of  environment,  ^he  individual  entity,  if  it  bo 
an  intelligent,  thinking  entity,  does  not  now  imagine 
itself  either  its  own  product  or  the  exclusive  product 
of  any  other  individual  entity.  The  unthinking  thing 
acts  and  is  acted  on  by  universal  regulation,  passively, 
unknowingly.  Even  the  natural  selections  of  progress 
are  made  in  accordance  therewith,  and  seldom  artifi- 
cially or  arbitrarily.  Underlying  all  phenomena  is 
the  absolute,  the  elemental  source  of  vital  knowledge* 


THE  FIELD, 


and  thus  all  the  grand  issues  of  life  are  referred  back 
to  a  matter  of  carbon  and  ammonia. 

And  now,  while  presenting  here  a  history  of  my 
history,  an  explanation  of  my  life,  its  efforts  and  ac- 
complishments, it  is  necessary  first  of  all  that  there 
should  be  established  in  the  mind  of  the  reader  a  good 
and  sufficient  reason  for  the  same.  For  in  the  absence 
of  such  a  reason,  to  whose  existence  the  simple  appear- 
ing of  the  book  is  ex  hypofhesi  a  declaration,  then  is  the 
author  guilty  of  placing  himself  before  the  world  in 
the  unenviable  light  of  one  who  appears  to  think 
more  hii^hlv  of  himself  and  his  labors  than  the  world 
thinks,  or  than  the  expressions  and  opmions  of  the 
world  would  justify  him  in  thinking. 

In  any  of  the  departments  of  human  activity,  he 
alone  can  reasonably  ask  to  be  heard  who  has  some 
new  a[)plication  of  ideas;  something  to  say  v  hicli  has 
never  been  said  before;  or,  if  said  before,  then  some- 
thing which  can  be  better  said  this  second  or  twentieth 
time.  Within  the  last  clause  of  this  proposition 
my  efforts  do  not  come.  All  ancient  facts  are  well 
recorded;  all  old  ideas  are  already  clothed  in  more 
beautiful  forms  than  are  at  my  command.  It  there- 
fore remains  to  be  shown  that  mv  historical  labors, 
of  which  this  volume  is  an  exposition,  come  prop- 
erly within  the  first  of  the  categories.  And  this  I 
am  cf)nfident  will  appear,  namely,  that  I  do  not  only 
deal  in  new  facts,  but  in  little  else;  in  facts  brought 
out  in  this  latter-day  dispensation  as  a  revelation  of 
development  as  marvellous  in  its  origin  and  as  magi- 
cal in  its  results  as  any  appearing  upon  the  breaking 
up  of  the  great  dark  age  preceding  the  world's  un- 
covering and  enlightenment.  Every  glance  westward 
was  met  by  a  new  ray  of  intelligence ;  every  drawn 
breath  of  western  air  brought  inspiration;  every  step 
taken  was  over  an  untried  field;  every  experiment, 
every  thought,  every  aspiration  and  act  were  origi- 
nal and  individual;  and  the  faithful  recorder  of  the 
events   attendant  thereunto,   who  must  be  at  once 


CLAIMS  TO  EXISTENCE.  5 

poot  and  prophet  of  the  new  dispensation,  had  no 
need  of  legendary  lore,  of  grandfather's  tales,  or  of 
paths  previously  trodden. 

And  not  only  should  be  here  established  a  proper 
reason  for  the  appearance  of  this  volume,  as  the  re- 
sults of  a  life  of  earnest  endeavor,  but  all  its  predeces- 
sors should  be  reestablished  in  the  good  opinions  of 
the  learned  and  intelligent  world,  of  all  who  have  so 
fully  and  freely  bestowed  their  praise  in  times  past ; 
for  the  two  propositions  must  stand  or  fall  together. 
If  niy  historical  eftbrts  have  been  superfluous  or  un- 
necessary; if  it  were  as  well  they  had  never  been 
undertaken,  or  little  loss  if  blotted  out  of  existence, 
then,  not  only  have  they  no  right  to  exist,  to  cumber 
the  earth  and  occupy  valuable  room  upon  the  shelves 
of  libraries,  but  this  volume  must  be  set  down  as 
the  product  of  mistaken  zeal  commensurate  with  tlte 
ideas  of  the  author  in  regard  to  the  merit,  oriijinal- 
ity,  and  value  claimed  for  the  series.  In  a  word,  if 
the  work  is  nothing,  the  explanation  is  worse  than 
nothing;  but  if  the  work  is  worthy  of  its  reputation, 
as  something  individual,  important,  and  incapable  of 
repetition  or  reproduction,  then  is  this  history  and 
description  of  it  not  only  not  inopportune  or  superflu- 
ous, but  it  is  a  work  which  should  be  done,  a  work 
imperatively  demanded  of  the  author  as  the  right  of 
tho.se  whose  kindness  and  sympathy  have  sustained 
him  in  his  long  and  arduous  undertakings. 

The  proposition  stands  thus:  As  the  author's  life 
has  been  mainly  devoted  to  this  labor,  and  not  his 
alone  but  that  of  many  others,  and  as  the  work  has 
been  extensive  and  altogether  diit'erent  from  any  which 
has  hitherto  been  accomplished  in  any  other  })art  of 
the  globe,  it  was  thought  that  it  might  prove  of  inter- 
est if  he  should  present  a  report,  setting  forth  what  he 
has  accomplished  and  how  he  accomplished  it.  Com- 
ing to  this  coast  a  boy,  he  has  seen  it  transformed 
from  a  wilderness  into  a  garden  of  latter-day  civiliza- 
tion, vast  areas  between  the  mountains  and  the  sea 


T] 


e  THE  FIELD. 

which  were  at  first  pronounced  valueless  unfoklinir 
into  homes  of  refinement  and  progress.  It  would 
therefore  seem,  that  as  upon  the  teri'itory  covered  by 
his  work  there  is  now  being  planted  a  civilization  des- 
tined in  time  to  be  superior  to  any  now  existing;  and 
as  to  coming  millions,  if  not  to  those  now  here,  every- 
thing connected  with  the  efforts  of  the  builders  of  tho 
commonwealths  on  these  shores  will  be  of  vital  inter- 
est— it  seems  not  out  of  place  to  devote  the  last  vt)l- 
unie  of  his  historical  series,  proper,  to  an  account  of 
his  labors  in  this  field. 

It  was  rather  a  slow  process,  as  affairs  are  at  pres- 
ent progressing,  that  of  belting  the  earth  by  Asiatic 
and  European  civiHzation.  Thrco  tlousand  years,  or 
we  might  say  four  thousand,  were  occupied  in  making 
the  circuit  now  effected  daily  by  the  conscious  light- 
ning; three  or  four  thousand  years  in  finding  a  jiath- 
wav  now  the  thorouLrhfare  of  the  nations.  Half  the 
distance — that  is,  from  the  hypothetical  cradle  of  this 
civiHzation  eastward  t-^)  the  Pacific  and  westward  to 
the  Atlantic — was  achieved  at  a  comparatively  early 
period.  The  other  half  dragged  its  slow  course  along, 
a  light  age  and  a  dark  age  intervening,  the  work  be- 
ginning in  earnest  only  after  the  inventions  of  gun- 
powder, printing,  and  the  mariner's  compass,  the  last 
permitting  presumptuous  man  to  traverse  the  several 
seas  of  darkness.  Even  after  Mediterranean  navi- 
gators had  passed  the  Pillars  of  Hercules,  and  ven- 
tured beyond  the  sight  of  land,  several  hundred  years 
elapsed  before  the  other  earth's  end  was  permanently 
attained  by  way  of  the  east  and  the  west  on  the  Pa- 
cific shores  of  America. 

As  the  earth  was  thus  disclosing  its  form  and  its 
secrets,  men  began  to  talk  and  write  about  it,  saying 
much  that  was  true  and  much  that  was  false.  First 
among  the  records  are  the  iioly  books  of  Asia;  holy, 
because  their  authors  dwelt  little  on  the  things  of 
this  world  concerning  which  they  knew  little,  while 


GENESIS  OF  HISTORY. 


UC 


Pa- 


Ind  its 

Isaving 

First 

holy, 

Ings  of 

while 


thoy  had  much  to  say  of  other  worlds  of  which  they 
knew  nothing.  Then  came  Homer,  Herodotus,  and 
others,  who  wrote  of  tlie  classic  region  on  the  central 
sea  and  its  inhabited  skies;  and  who,  because  tliey 
told  more  of  truth,  were  pronounced  profane.  For 
fifteen  hundred  years  the  Ptolemy  geographies  and 
the  standard  cosmographies  kept  the  world  informed 
of  its  i>rogress,  filling  the  blank  places  of  tlie  universe 
from  a  fertile  imagination.  Following  the  works  of 
the  wise  men  of  Egypt,  India,  and  China  were  a  mul- 
titude of  histories  and  geographies  by  the  scholars  of 
Greece,  and  Rome,  and  western  Europe. 

The  finding  of  the  cape  of  Good  Hope  route  to 
India,  and  the  discovery  and  occupation  of  the  west- 
ern hemisphere,  gave  a  mighty  impulse  to  histories 
of  the  world,  and  their  several  parts  became  rapidly 
com[)lete.  All  the  grand  episodes  were  written  upon 
and  rewritten  by  men  of  genius,  patient  and  pro- 
found, and  admiring  thousands  read  the  stories,  be- 
queathing them  to  tlieir  children.  By  the  middle  of 
the  nineteenth  century  there  was  scarcely  a  nation  or 
a  civilized  state  on  the  globe  whose  liistory  had  not 
been  vividly  portrayed,  some  of  them  many  times. 
That  part  of  the  north  temperate  zone,  the  illuminated 
l)elt  of  human  intelligence,  where  its  new  western  end 
looks  across  the  Pacific  to  the  ancient  east,  the  last 
spot  ()ccui)icd  by  European  civilization,  and  the  final 
halting-place  of  westward-marching  empire,  was  ob- 
viously the  least  favored  in  this  respect;  while  the 
tropical  })lateaux  adjoining,  in  their  unpublished  an- 
nals, offered  far  more  of  interest  to  history  than  many 
other  i)arts  of  which  far  more  had  been  written.  A 
hundred  years  before  John  8mitli  saw  the  spot  on 
which  was  planted  Jamestown,  or  the  English  pil- 
grims placed  foot  on  the  rock  of  Plymouth,  thousands 
from  Spain  had  crossed  the  high  sea,  achieved  mighty 
conquests,  seizing  large  portions  of  the  two  Americas 
and  phicing  under  tribute  their  peoples.  They  liad 
built  towns,  worked  mines,  established   plantations, 


8  THE  FIELD. 

and  solved  nic'iny  of  the  problems  attending  European 
colonization  in  the  New  World.  Yet,  while  the  United 
States  of  North  America  could  spread  before  Enyilish 
readers  its  history  by  a  dozen  respectable  authors,  the 
states  of  Central  America  and  Mexico  could  produce 
comparatively  few  of  their  annals  in  English,  and  little 
worthy  their  history  even  in  the  Spanish  language. 
Canada  was  better  provided  in  this  respect,  as  were 
also  several  of  the  governments  of  South  America. 
Alaska  belonged  to  Russia,  and  its  history  must  come 
through  Russian  channels.  British  Columbia  still 
looked  toward  England,  but  the  beginning,  aside  from 
the  earliest  coast  voyages,  was  from  Canada.  Wash- 
ington, Oregon,  and  the  inland  territory  adjacent  were 
an  acknowledged  part  of  the  United  Ptates,  whoso 
acquisition  from  Mexico,  in  1847,  of  the  territory  lying 
between  the  parallels  32°  and  42'^  left  the  ownership  of 
the  coast  essentially  as  it  is  to-day.  Enticingly  stood 
these  Pacific  states  before  the  enlightened  world,  yet 
neglected ;  for  it  is  safe  to  say  that  there  was  no  part 
of  the  globe  equal  in  historic  interest  and  importance 
to  this  western  half  of  North  America,  including  tlie 
whole  of  Mexico  and  Central  America,  which  at  the 
time  had  not  its  historical  material  in  better  shape, 
and  its  history  well  written  by  one  or  more  competent 
persons.  Before  him  who  was  able  to  achieve  it,  here, 
of  all  purposes  and  places,  lay  The  Field. 

Mids+  the  unfoldings  of  my  fate,  I  found  myself  in 
the  year  of  1856  in  the  newly  Americanized  and  gold- 
burnished  country  of  California,  in  tlie  city  of  San 
Francisco,  which  stands  on  a  narrow  peninsula,  about 
midway  between  either  extreme  of  the  mighty  stretch 
of  western  earth's  end  seaboard,  beside  a  bay  un- 
equalled by  any  along  the  whole  seven  thousand  miles 
of  shore  line,  and  unsurjxassed  as  a  harbor  by  any  in 
the  world.  Out  of  this  circumstance,  as  from  omnipo- 
tent accident,  sprang  the  Literary  Industries  of  which 
this  volume  is  a  record. 


SIGNIFICANCE  OF  NATURE. 


or  tllC 

at  tlie 


gold- 

)f  Sail 

about 

stretch 

ly  un- 

miles 

any  iu 

iiinipo- 

which 


California  was  then  a-weary.  Vounjjf,  stroncr,  with 
untouched,  undroauied  of  resources  a  tiiousaiul-f<thl 
more  dazzhiii?  than  any  yet  uncovered,  with  a  milhon 
matchless  years  before  her  during  which  to  turn  and 
overturn  the  world's  great  centres  of  civilization,  })ene- 
trate  the  mysteries  of  time,  and  bring  to  pass  the 
unknowable,  she  was  a-weary,  spiritless  as  a  sick  girl 
after  a  brief  and  harmless  dissipation,  and  suffering 
from  that  ttediam  vide  which  comes  from  excess. 

Reaction  after  the  flush  times  had  fairly  set  in. 
Agriculture  had  not  yet  assumed  great  importance; 
still  more  insignificant  were  manufactures.  IMacer 
nnning  returns  had  fallen  from  an  ounce  of  gold  to 
half  an  ounce,  then  to  a  quarter  of  an  ounce  a  day  to 
tlic  digger;  quartz  mining  was  as  ruinous  as  gambling. 
]\[ost  of  the  merchants  had  already  failed  once,  some 
of  them  several  times.  As  a  rule  they  had  begun  busi- 
ness on  nothing,  had  conducted  it  recklessly,  with  large 
])rofits  expecting  still  larger,  until,  from  overtrading, 
iVom  rej>eated  fires  and  failures,  they  were  awaking  as 
from  a  commercial  delirium  to  find  themselves  bank- 
ru[)t,  and  their  credit  and  original  opportunities  alike 
gone.  A  lualadie  dn  jxiys  seized  upc.w  some,  who  there- 
upon departed;  others  set  about  reforming  their  ideas 
and  habits,  and  so  began  the  battle  of  life  anew. 

There  was  little  thought  of  mental  culture  at  this 
time,  of  refinement  and  literature,  or  even  of  great 
wealth  and  luxury.  The  first  dream  was  over  of  ships 
laden  with  gold-dust  and  of  palaces  at  convenient  inter- 
vals in  various  parts  of  the  world,  and  humbler  aspi- 
rations claimed  attention.  Yet  beneath  the  ruffled 
surface  were  the  still,  deep  waters,  which  contained  as 
nmch  of  science  and  philosophy  as  the  more  boisterous 
waves,  commonly  all  that  we  regard  of  ocean. 

Slowly  as  were  unlocked  to  man  the  wealth  and 
mysteries  of  this  Pacific  seaboard,  so  will  be  the  in- 
tellectual possibilities  of  this  cradle  of  the  new  civili- 
zation.    As  a  country  once  deemed  unproductive  can 


10 


THE  FIELD. 


now  from  its  surplus  feed  other  countries,  so  from 
our  intellectual  pioducts  shall  wo  some  day  {'wd  the 
nations.  In  the  material  wealth  and  beauty  with 
which  nature  ha.s  endowed  this  land  wo  may  find  the 
promise  of  the  wealth  o!id  beauty  of  mind.  The 
metal-veined  mountains  are  symbolic  of  the  human 
force  that  will  shortly  dwell  betieath  their  shadows. 
And  what  shonld  be  the  (lualitv  of  the  strenuth  so 
syndxtlizcd  ^  Out  of  teriaee  parks  rise  these  moun- 
tains, lifting  their  granite  fronts  proudly  into  the 
ambient  air,  their  glittering  cre.sts  s[)orting  and 
quarrelling  with  the  eloutls.  Their  ruggedness,  now 
toned  by  distance  into  soft  coral  hues,  time  will 
smooth  to  nearer  inspection,  but  oven  ages  eaimot 
improve  the  halo  thrown  over  slopes  covering  untold 
millions  of  mineral  wealth  by  the  blending  of  white 
snow-fields  with  red-Hushed  foothills.  In  further 
signilicance  of  losthetics  here  to  be  unfolded  we  might 
point  to  the  valleys  ear[)etcd  with  variegated  llowers, 
golden  pur[)le  and  white,  and  whose  hilly  borders  are 
shaggy  with  gnarled  trees  and  undergrowth;  to 
higher  peaks,  with  their  dense  black  forests,  from 
which  shoot  pinnacles  of  pine,  like  spires  of  the  green 
tem[)le  t>f  (;lod;  to  oak-shaded  park  lands,  and  islands 
and  shores  with  bright-leaved  groves,  and  long  blue 
headlands  of  hills  .sheltering  (juiet  bays;  to  dreamy, 
soft,  voluptuous  valleys,  and  plains  glowing  in  sum- 
mer as  from  hidden  tire,  their  primitive  aspect  already 
modified  by  man;  to  the  lonely  grantkiur  of  craggy 
cliffs  bathed  in  blue  air,  and  dcej)  gorges  in  the  foot- 
hills seamed  with  fissures  and  veiled  in  purple  mists; 
to  winds  rolling  in  from  the  ocran  leaden  fog-banks, 
and  beating  into  clouds  of  white  unoke  the  powdered 
flakes  of  snowclad  summits,  and  .*;  •  iding  them  in  whirl- 
winds to  the  milder  temperature;-.  'eh)w;  to  lakes  and 
watercourses  lighted  by  the  mor  ng  sun  into  lumi- 
nous haze;  to  summers  radiant  in  uishine,  to  winters 
smiling  in  tears;  to  misty  moon  ghts  and  clarified 
noondays;    to    the   vapor-charged   elliptic  arch    that 


wwwwBiii  m  iitimmuia'a 


CIVILIZATION'S   HAi;nNG-(; ROUND. 


11 


bullies  the  landscaiHj  uith  ivHirtctl  lij^^ht;  to  the  |»uu- 
miit  ocean  ttir  ami  the  hulsamie  odor  of  canons;  to 
these,  and  ten  thousand  other  beauties  of  plain  and 
sierra,  sky  and  sea,  which  still  encompass  secrets  of. 
as  mighty  import  to  the  race  as  any  hitherto  brought 
to  the  understan(lin<r  of  man. 

Civilization  as  the  stronger  element  supplants  sav- 
agism,  drives  it  from  the  njore  favored  spots  of  earth, 
and  enters  in  to  occupy.  The  aspiscts  of  nature 
have  no  le.ss  intluence  on  the  distribution  or  migrations 
of  civilized  peoples  than  ui)on  indigenous  unfoldings. 
It  is  a  fact  no  less  unaccountable  than  pleasing  to 
contem|)lato,  Ihat  these  western  shores  of  North 
America  should  have  been  so  long  reserved,  that  a 
land  so  well  adaj)tetl  to  cosmopolitan  occupation,  which 
has  a  counter|)art  for  all  that  can  bo  found  in  other 
lands,  which  has  so  little  tliat  is  objectionable  to  any, 
which  presents  so  many  of  the  beauties  of  other  climes 
and  so  few  of  their  asperities — that  so  favorable  a 
spot,  the  last  of  temperate  earth,  should  have  been 
held  unoccupied  so  long,  and  then  that  it  shoidd  have 
been  settled  in  such  a  way,  the  only  possible  way  it 
would  seem  for  the  full  and  immediate  accomi)lishment 
of  its  high  destiny — I  say,  though  ])leasing  to  con- 
tem[)late,  it  is  passing  strange.  Here  the  chronic  emi- 
giant  must  rest;  there  is  for  him  no  fiirther  west. 
From  its  Asiatic  cradle  westward  round  the  antipodes, 
to  the  very  threshold  of  its  source,  civilization  has 
ever  been  steady  and  constant  cyi  the  march,  leaving 
in  its  track  the  expended  energies  of  dead  nations 
unconsciously  dropped  into  dream-land.  A  worn-out 
world  is  reanimated  as  it  slowly  wanders  toward  the 
setting  sun.  Constantinople  shrivels,  and  San  Fran- 
cisco springs  into  being.  Shall  the  dead  activities 
of  primordial  peoples  over  revive,  or  cheir  exhausted 
soil  be  ever  re-created  and  worked  by  new  nations'? 
If  not,  wlien  our  latest  and  last  west  is  dead,  in  what 
direction  lies  the  hope  of  the  world? 


•II 


I   i 


ll    \ 


llllf 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE     ATMOSPHERE. 

Tlie  true,  great  want  is  of  an  atmosphere  of  sj'mpatliy  in  intellectual  aims. 
An  artist  can  allbrd  to  be  poor,  but  not  to  be  conipanionless.  It  is  not  well 
that  lie  should  feel  pressing  on  him,  in  addition  to  his  own  doubt  wlicthtr  he 
can  achieve  a  certain  worli,  the  weight  of  the  public  doubt  whether  it  be 
worth  achieving.     No  man  can  liv^  entirely  on  his  own  ideal. 

IIi(j(]insoii. 

Often  during  the  progress  of  my  literary  labors 
questions  have  arisen  as  to  the  i.  fluence  of  California 
climate  and  society  on  the  present  and  future  develop- 
ment of  letters.  Charles  Nordhoff  said  to  me  one 
day  at  his  villa  on  the  Hudson,  "The  strangest  part 
of  it  is  how  you  ever  came  to  embark  in  such  a  laboi-. 
The  atmosphere  of  California  is  so  foreign  to  literary 
pursuits,  tlie  minds  of  the  people  so  much  more  intent 
on  gold-getting  and  society  pleasures  than  on  intel- 
lectual culture  and  the  investigation  of  historical  or 
abstract  subjects,  that  your  isolation  must  have  been 
severe.  I  could  not  help  feeling  this  keenly  myself," 
continued  my  entertainer,  "  while  on  your  coast. 
With  a  host  of  fiiends  ready  to  do  everything  in 
their  power  to  serve  me,  I  was  in  reality  without 
companionship,  without  that  brc-*,d  and  generous  sym- 
pathy which  characterizes  men  of  letters  everywhere; 
so  that  it  amazes  me  to  find  a  product  like  yours  ger- 
minating and  developing  in  such  a  soil  and  such  a 
climate." 

While  it  was  true,  I  replied,  that  no  great  attempts 
were  made  in  the  field  of  letters  in  California,  and 
while  comparatively  few  of  the  people  were  specially 
interested  in  literature  or  literary  men,  yet  I  had 
never  experienced  the  feeling  of  which  he  spoke. 


i.;*»» 


ISOLATION  AXr  APPRECIATION. 


13 


My  mother  used  to  say  that  she  never  felt  lonely 
in  her  life;  and  yet  she  was  most  companionable,  and 
enjo^^cd  society  as  much  as  any  one  I  ever  knew. 
But  her  heart  was  so  single  and  pure,  her  mind  so 
clear,  intelligent,  and  free,  that  to  commune  with  her 
licart,  and  allow  her  mind  to  feed  on  its  own  intcl- 
liij^once,  filled  to  the  full  the  measure  of  her  soul's  re- 
([uircments.  A  healthy  cultivated  mind  never  can  be 
l(Mioly;  all  the  universe  is  its  companion.  Yet  it  may 
be  alone,  and  may  feel  that  aloneness,  that  natural 
craving  for  companionship,  of  which  it  is  not  good  for 
man  long  to  remain  deprived.  Though  for  different 
reasons,  I  can  say  with  her  that  I  never  have  ex- 
})erienced  loneliness  in  my  labors.  If  ever  alone  it 
was  in  an  atmosphere  of  dead  forms  and  convention- 
alisms crushing  to  my  nature,  and  where  something 
was  expected  of  me  other  than  I  had  to  give.  Thus 
have  I  been  lonely  for  my  work,  but  not  in  it. 
Once  eno-aoed,  all  else  was  forgotten:  as  the  sub- 
lime  Jean  Paul  liichter  expresses  it,  "Ein  (jclehr- 
ter  hat  keine  lange  Weile."  Nor  can  I  truly  say 
that  I  have  ever  felt  any  lack  of  appreciation  on 
the  part  of  the  people  of  California.  As  a  matter 
of  fact,  my  mind  has  had  little  time  to  dwell  on 
such  things.  What  chiefly  has  concerned  me  these 
twenty  or  thirty  years  has  beeii,  not  what  people 
were  thinking  of  me  and  of  my  efforts,  but  how  I 
could  best  antl  most  thoroughly  perform  my  task.  I 
have  never  stopped  to  consider  wh'^ther  my  labors 
were  appreciated  by  my  neighbors,  or  whether  they 
knew  aught  of  them,  or  concerned  themselves  there- 
A\ith.  I  have  never  felt  isolation  or  self-abnegation. 
To  be  free,  free  in  mind  and  body  free  of  business, 
of  society,  free  from  interruptions  and  weariness,  these 
have  been  my  chief  concern. 

True,  I  could  not  overlook  the  fact  that  in  the 
midst  of  many  warm  friends,  and  surrounded  by  a 
host  of  hearty  well-wishers,  my  motives  were  not 
i'ully  understood  nor  my  work  appreciated.     Had  it 


14 


THE  ATMOSniERE. 


been  otherwise  I  should  not  entertain  a  very  hi<^]i 
opinion  of  cither.  If  that  whidi  engaged  me,  body 
and  soul,  was  not  above  the  average  aspiration,  or 
even  execution,  there  was  nothing  ilattering  in  the 
tliouglit,  and  I  had  better  not  dwell  upon  it.  I  was 
an  individual  worker,  and  my  task  was  individual; 
and  I  solace(l  myself  with  the  reflection  tliat  the 
ablest  and  most  intelligent  men  manifested  most  in- 
terest in  the  work.  I  had  never  expected  very  wide 
recognition  or  appreciation,  and  I  always  had  more 
than  I  deemed  my  (hie.  Surely  I  could  find  no  fault 
with  the  people  of  tlie  Pacific  coast  for  attending  to 
their  business,  ei.ch  according  to  liis  interest  or  taste, 
while  I  followed  what  best  pleased  me.  Further  tlian 
this,  I  did  not  regard  my  fate  as  resting  wholly  in 
their  liands;  for  unless  I  could  gain  the  approval  of 
leading  men  of  letters  throughout  the  world,  of  tliose 
wliolly  disinterested  and  most  competent  to  judge,  my 
efibrts  in  my  own  e^'^es  would  prove  a  failure.  Thus, 
from  the  outset,  I  learned  to  look  on  myself  and  the 
work,  not  as  products  of  California,  or  of  America, 
but  of  tlic  world;  therefore  isolation  signified  only 
retirement,  for  whicli  I  felt  most  thankful. 

Perhaps  men  of  letters  are  too  critical;  sensitive 
as  a  rule  they  always  have  been,  though  less  so 
than  men  in  some  other  professions.  Hawthorno 
complained  of  a  lack  of  sympathy  during  twelve 
years  of  his  young  manhood,  in  which  he  failed  to 
make  the  sliglitest  impression  on  the  public  mind, 
so  that  he  found  "no  incitcnnent  to  literary  effoi't 
in  a  reasonable  prospect  of  reputation  or  profit; 
nothing  but  tlie  pleasure  itself  of  composition— an 
enjoyment  not  at  all  amiss  in  its  way,  and  perhaps 
essential  to  the  merit  of  the  work  in  hand,  but  wluch, 
in  the  long  run,  will  hardly  keep  the  chill  out  of  the 
w^riter's  heart  or  the  numbness  out  of  his  finijers."  It 
jS  scarcely  to  be  expected  that  the  unappreciative 
masses  should  be  deeply  interested  in  such  work. 
And  as  regards  the  more  intelligent,  each  as  a  rule 


f 


THE  CULTURE  OF  LETTERS. 


15 


3,  body 

;ion,  or 

in  the 

I  was 
ividual ; 
lat   the 
lost  in- 
ry  wide 
xl  more 
no  fault 
iding  to 
or  taste, 
;\er  tlian 
'holly  in 
)roval  of 
of  those 
idive,  my 
3.    Thus, 
■  and  the 

uierioa, 
lied  only 

sensitive 
less   so 
Avthorne 
twelve 
failed  to 
ic  mind, 
iry  eil'ort 
|r   prt^iit; 
tion — an 
perhaps 
[it  which, 
[it  of  the 
rs."  Tt 
trcciative 
^h  work, 
las  a  rulo 


^ 


has  something  specially  commandini^  hi:;  attention, 
which  being  of  paramount  interest  to  himself,  lie 
naturally  expects  it  to  command  the  attention  of 
others.  He  who  makes  the  finest  beer  or  brandy, 
or  builds  the  largest  house,  or  fills  the  grandest 
churcli,  or  sports  the  largest  stud  of  horses,  holds 
himself  as  much  an  objerl.  of  consideration  as  he 
wlio  engages  in  important  literary  \vork.  The  atten- 
tion of  the  groat  heedless  public  will  invariably 
bo  caught  by  that  which  most  easily  and  instantly 
interests  them,  by  that  which  most  easily  and  in- 
stantly can  be  measured  by  big  round  dollars,  or  by 
pleasures  which  they  appreciate  and  covet. 

I  can  truthfully  say  that  from  the  very  first  I  have 
been  more  than  satisfied  with  the  recognition  my 
fellow-citizens  of  California  have  given  my  attempts 
at  authorship.  If,  by  reason  of  preoccupation  or  other 
cause,  their  minds  have  not  al>sorbed  historical  and 
literaiy  subjects  as  mine  has  done,  it  is  perhaps  for- 
tunate for  them.  Indeed,  of  what  is  called  the  cul- 
ture of  letters  there  was  none  during  my  working 
(lays  in  California.  The  few  attempts  made  to  achieve 
literature  met  a  fate  but  little  superior  to  that  of  a 
tliird-rate  poet  in  Rome  in  the  time  of  Juvenal. 

Peoples  rapidly  change;  but  what  shall  wo  say 
when  so  esteemed  a  writer  as  Grace  Greenwood  adds 
to  the  social  a  physical  cause  why  literature  in  Cali- 
fornia should  not  prosper?  "I  really  cannot  see," 
she  writes,  "  how  this  coast  can  ever  make  a  great 
record  in  scientific  discoveries  and  attainments,  and 
the  loftier  walks  of  literature — can  ever  raise  great 
students,  authors,  and  artists  of  its  own.  Leaving 
out  of  consideration  the  fiist  and  furious  rate  of  busi- 
ness enterprise,  and  the  maelstrom-like  force  of  the 
s]iirit  of  speculation,  of  gambling,  on  a  mighty,  mag- 
nificent sweep,  I  cannot  see  how,  in  a  country  so 
enticingly  picturesque,  where  three  hundred  days  out 
of  every  year  invite  you  forth  into  the  open  air  with 
bright  bcguilements  and  soft  blandishments,  any  con- 


16 


THE  ATMOSPHERE. 


siclcrable  number  of  sensible,  healthy  men  and  women 
can  ever  be  brought  to  buckle  down  to  study  of  the 
hardest,  most  persistent  sort;  to  'poring  over  miser- 
able books';  to  brooding  over  theories  and  incubating 
inventions.  California  is  not  wanting  in  admirable 
educational  enterprises,  originated  and  engineered  by 
able  men  and  fine  scholars;  and  there  is  any  amount 
of  a  certain  sort  of  brain  stimulus  in  the  atmosphere. 
She  will  always  produce  brilliant  men  and  women  of 
society,  wits,  and  ready  speakers;  but  I  do  not  think 
she  will  ever  be  the  rival  of  bleak  little  Massachusetts 
or  stony  old  Connecticut  in  thorough  culture,  in  the 
production  of  classical  scholars,  great  jurists,  theo- 
logians, historians,  and  reformers.  The  conditions  of 
life  are  too  easy.  East  winds,  snows,  and  rocks  are 
the  grim  allies  of  serious  thought  and  plodding  re- 
search, of  tough  brain  and  strong  wills." 

On  the  other  hand,  the  author  of  Greater  Britain, 
after  speaking  of  the  weirdly  peaked  or  flattened  hills, 
the  new  skies,  and  birds,  and  plants,  and  the  warm 
crisp  air,  unlike  any  in  the  world  but  those  of  South 
Australia,  thinks  "it  will  be  strange  if  the  Pacific 
coast  does  not  produce  a  new  school  of  Saxon  poets," 
afhrming  that  "painters  it  has  already  given  to  the 
world."  "  For  myself,"  exclaims  Bayard  Taylor,  "  in 
breathing  an  air  sweeter  than  that  which  first  caught 
the  honeyed  words  of  Plato,  in  looking  upon  lovelier 
vales  than  those  of  Tempo  and  Eurotas,  in  wandering 
through  a  land  whose  sentinel  peak  of  Shasta  far 
overtops  the  Olympian  throne  of  Jupiter,  I  could  not 
but  feel  that  nature  must  be  false  to  her  promise,  or 
man  is  not  the  splendid  creature  he  once  was,  if  the 
art,  the  literature,  and  philosophy  of  ancient  Greece 
are  not  one  day  rivalled  on  this  last  of  inhabited 
shores  I"  Mr  John  S.  Hittell  thinks  that  "California 
has  made  a  beginning  in  the  establishment  of  a  local 
literature,  but  that  her  writers  were  nearly  all  born 
elsewhere,  though  they  were  impelled  to  it  by  our  in- 
tellectual atmosphere;"  by  which  latter  phrase  I  un- 


OPINIOXS  OF  AUTHORS. 


17 


women 

of  the 

miser- 
abating 
inirablc 
erecl  by- 
amount 
)spliere. 
)men  of 
3t  tliink 
3husetts 
),  in  the 
[is,  theo- 
itions  of 
ocks  are 
[ding  re- 

Bntahif 
ned  hills, 
he  warm 
of  South 
Pacific 
poets,' 
n  to  the 
ylor,  "  in 
t  caught 
lovelier 
andering 
lasta  far 
ould  not 
omise,  or 
IS,  if  the 
t  Greece 
nhabited 
alifornia 
f  a  local 
all  born 


(Icrstand  the  writer  to  mean  an  atmosphere  that 
excites  to  intellectual  activity  rather  than  a  social 
atmosplicre  breathing  the  breath  of  letters. 

"What  effect  the  physical  climate  of  California 
may  have  on  literary  instincts  and  literary  efforts," 
says  Walter  M.  Fisher,  "I  am  afraid  it  would  be  pre- 
mature, fi'om  our  present  data,  exactly  to  say  or 
))ro{lict.  Its  general  Laodicean  equability,  sunnner 
and  winter  through,  may  tend  to  a  monotony  of 
tension  unfavorable  to  tliat  class  of  poetic  mind  de- 
veloped in  and  fed  by  the  fierce  extremes  of  storm  or 
utter  calm,  of  fervent  summers,  or  frosts  like  those  of 
Niffolbeim.  It  is  generally  ]icld,  however,  that  the 
mildness  of  the  Athenian  climate  had  nuich  to  do 
witli  the  'sweet  reasonableness'  of  her  culture,  and  it 
is  usual  to  find  a  more  rugged  and  less  artistic  spirit 
inhabit  the  muses  of  the  Norse  zone;  while  the  lilies 
and  languors  of  the  tropics  are  doubtfully  productive 
of  anything  above  the  grade  of  pure  'sensuous  cater- 
wauling.' Following  this  very  fanciful  lino  of  thought 
the  Golden  State  should  rcyuvenato  the  glories  of  the 
City  of  the  Violet  Crown  and  become  the  alma  mater 
of  the  universe.  As  to  the  effects  of  the  social 
climate  of  California  on  literary  aspiration  and  effort, 
little  that  is  favorable  can  be  said  for  the  present, 
little  that  is  unfavorable  should  be  feared  from  the 
future.  California  p<^n'  is  m  parvenu,  making  money, 
fighting  his  way  into  society,  having  no  time  or  taste 
for  studying  anything  save  the  news  <»f  the  day  and 
])orhaps  all  occasional  work  of  broad  humor.  It  h 
for  his  heir,  California  /<7.s',  to  be  a  gentleman  of  leisure 
and  wear  '  literary  frills.'  For  the  present,  a  taste  in 
tliat  direction  is  simply  not  understood,  though  it  is 
tolerated,  as  the  worship  of  any  strange  god  is.  The 
orthodox  god  of  the  hour  is  Plutus:  sa actus,  sanctus, 
<ancti(s,  domlnus  cleuft  sahaoth:  exaltat  cormi  j^opitU 
siii:  selah!  All  this,  however,  is  but  for  a  moment. 
Lot  us  put  our  fancy  apocalyptically,  after  the  fashion 
of  Dr  Gumming:  'And  the  first  beast  was  like  a  lion, 


Lit.  I^rD.    2 


18 


THE  ATMOSPHERE. 


and  the  second  beast  was  lilvc  a  calf,  and  tlic  third 
beast  liad  a  face  as  a  man,  and  the  fourth  boast  was 
like  a  flying  eagle  I'  California  past,  present,  .nd  to 
come.  Tlie  lion-hearts  of  reckless  '49  arc  cold.  The 
golden  calf  bestrides  the  land,  belittling  man.  To- 
morrow they  will  make  it  a  beast  of  burden,  not  a 
god.  And  when  the  lion's  heart  is  joined  to  riches, 
and  riclics  to  pure  manhood,  and  manhood  to  a  high 
and  lar-reaeliing  culture  in  letters,  and  science,  and 
art,  tlien  no  synd^ol  of  eagle  eye  or  eagle  wing  will  be 
una})t  to  the  sunward  progress  of  the  state." 

Returning  east  from  the  Pacific  coast  in  1882, 
Oscar  Wilde  reported :  "  California  is  an  Italy  witli- 
out  its  art.  There  are  subjects  for  the  artists;  but  it 
is  universally  true,  the  only  scenery  wliich  inspires 
utterance  is  that  which  man  feels  himself  the  master 
of  The  mountains  of  California  are  so  gigantic  that 
they  are  not  favorable  to  art  or  poetry.  The  scenery 
for  definite  utterance  is  that  which  man  is  lord  of. 
There  are  good  poets  in  England,  but  none  in  Switzer- 
land. There  tlie  mountains  are  too  high.  Art  cannot 
add  to  nature." 

So  inioht  we  go  on  with  what  twenty  or  fifty  others 
have  imagined  regarding  tlic  effect  of  social  and 
physical  surroundings  on  literature  and  art  in  Cali- 
fornia or  elsewhere,  and  be  little  the  wiser  for  it  all. 
With  the  first  coming  to  Oregon  of  divinely  appointed 
New  England  pro])agandists,  l)ooks  began  to  be 
written  which  should  tell  to  the  cast  what  the  un- 
revealed  west  contained.  And  this  writing  eontinued 
and  will  continue  as  long  as  there  are  men  and  women 
who  fancy  that  knowledge  as  it  first  conies  to  them 
first  comes  to  the  world. 

We  may  fully  recognize  the  mighty  power  of  en- 
vironment without  being  al)lo  to  analyze  it.  As 
Goldoni  observes,  "II  mondo  e  un  bel  libro,  ma  poco 
F(  rve  a  chi  non  lo  sa  leggere;"  and  as  Hegel  says, 
".lature  sliould  not  be  rated  too  high  nor  too  low. 
Di'   mild  Ionic  sky  certainly  contributed  much  to  the 


III! 


TOWX  AXD  COUNTRY. 


10 


charm  of  the  Homeric  poems,  yet  this  alone  can  pro- 
duce no  Homer."  Wliilo  Hterature  is  an  increment 
of  social  intelligence  and  the  resultant  of  social  prog- 
ress, it  is  certainly  influenced  tlirougli  the  mind  of  man 
l)y  climate  and  scenery,  by  accident  and  locality,  wliicli 
act  both  positively  and  negatively,  partly  in  liarmony, 
partly  in  antagonism.  Some  atmosplieres  seem  to 
al)Sorb  the  subtile  substance  of  the  brain;  others  feed 
the  mental  powers  and  stimulate  them  to  their  utmost 
capabilities. 

The  idyllic  picture  of  his  life  at  Scillus,  as  pre- 
sented by  Xenoplion,  not  wholly  in  the  bustling  world 
nor  yet  beyond  it,  is  most  charming.  Sophocles  re- 
tired from  busy  Athens  to  lov-ely  Colonus.  Horace 
in  gay  luxurious  Rome  renounced  wealth  and  social 
distinction,  preferring  few  friendships  and  those  of 
tlie  purest  and  best — Miecenas,  Virgil,  A'arius— pre- 
i'orring  pleasures  more  refmed,  and  which  might  be 
l)ought  only  by  temperance  in  all  things,  and  content- 
ment, that  content  which  abhors  the  lust  of  gain  and 
the  gnawing  disquietudes  of  social  envy. 

^Maecenas  loved  the  noisy  streets  of  Roine,  but 
Horace  doted  on  his  little  Sabine  farm,  the  gift  of 
his  devoted  friend.  It  was  there  in  free  and  undis- 
turbed thouQcht  ho  found  that  leisure  so  necessarv 
to  his  soul's  health.  Yet  sometimes  he  felt  the  need 
of  the  capital's  bustle  and  the  stimulus  of  society, 
and  then  again  he  longed  for  the  stillness  of  the 
country,  so  that  his  ambling  mule  was  kept  in  exer- 
cise carrying  him  forth  and  back.  The  gentle  satirist 
])uts  words  of  ridicule  into  the  mouth  of  his  servant 
JJavus,  ridicule  of  the  author  himself,  and  his  rhap- 
sodies of  town  and  country. 

"At  Rome  you  for  the  country  sigh; 
Wlien  in  the  country,  to  tlie  sky 
You,  flighty  as  tlie  thistle's  down, 
Arc  always  crying  up  the  town." 

Dugald  Stewart  clung  to  his  quiet  home;    Scott 


^ 


■  ■< 


f 


20 


THE  ATMOSPHERE. 


found  repose  among  his  antiquated  folios;  but  Jeffreys 
disdained  literary  retirement,  and  sought  comfort  in 
much  company.  Pope  loved  his  lawn  at  Twickenham, 
and  Wordsworth  the  solitude  of  Grasmere.  Heine, 
cramped  in  his  narrow  Paris  quarters,  sighed  for  trees. 
Dr  Arnold  hated  Rugby,  but,  said  he,  "it  is  very 
inspiring  to  wi'ite  with  such  a  view  before  one's  eyes 
as  that  from  our  drawing-room  at  Allen  Bank,  where 
the  trees  of  the  shrubbery  gradually  run  up  into  the 
trees  of  the  cliff,  and  the  mountain-side,  with  its  inli- 
nite  variety  of  rocky  peaks  and  points,  upon  which 
the  cattle  expatiate,  rises  over  the  tops  of  the  trees." 
Galileo  and  Cowper  thought  the  country  especially 
conducive  to  intellectual  culture;  ]\Ir  Buckle  preferred 
the  city,  while  Tycho  Brahe,  and  the  brothers  Hum- 
boldt, with  shrewder  wisdom,  established  themselves 
in  suburban  quarters  near  a  city,  where  they  might 
command  the  advantages  and  escape  the  inconven- 
iences of  both. 

Exquisite,  odd,  timidly  bold,  and  sweetly  misan- 
thropic Charles  Lamb  could  not  endure  the  glare  of 
nature,  and  so  must  needs  hide  himself  between  the 
brick  walls  of  busy  London,  whe:.'e  he  lived  alone 
with  his  sister,  shrinking  alike  from  enemy  and 
friend.  "  To  him,"  says  a  biographer,  "  the  tide  of 
human  life  that  flowed  through  Fleet  street  and  Lud- 
gate  Hill  was  worth  all  the  Wyes  find  Yarrows  in 
the  universe;  there  were  to  his  thinking  no  green 
lanes  to  compare  with  Fetter  Lane  or  St  Bride's;  no 
(garden  like  Covent  Garden;  and  the  sinffinix  of  all 
the  feathered  tribes  of  the  air  grated  harsh  discord  in 
his  ear,  attuned  as  it  was  only  to  the  drone  or  the 
squall  of  the  London  ballad-singer,  the  grinding  of 
the  hand-organ,  and  the  nondescript  London  cries,  set 
to  their  cait-wheel  accompaniment."  And  Dr  John- 
son, too,  loved  dingy,  dirty  Fleet  street  and  smoky 
Pall  Mall  above  any  freshness  or  beauty  nature  coukl 
afford  in  the  country.  "  Sir,"  he  says,  after  his  usual 
sententious  fashion,  "  when  you  have  seen  one  green 


THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  CHANGE. 


21 


reffrcys 
ifoit  ill 
cnham, 
Heine, 
r  trees, 
is  very 
c's  eyes 
,  where 
nto  the 
its  iiiii- 
i  which 
I  trees, 
pccially 
referred 
5  IIuiii- 
iiiiselves 
y  might 
iconven- 

misan- 
glare  of 
ecu  the 
d  alone 
ny  and 
tide  of 
d  Lud- 
Irows  in 
green 
do's;  no 
Ir  of  all 
cord  in 
or  the 
ding  of 
rics,  set 
r  John- 
smoky 
•e  could 
lis  usual 
e  green 


field  you  have  seen  all  green  fields.  S' ',  I  like  to 
look  upon  men.     Let  us  walk  down  Cheapside." 

How  different  had  been  the  culture  of  Goethe,  less 
diversified,  perhaps,  but  deeper,  if  instead  of  the  l)usy 
old  Frankfort  city  his  life  had  been  spent  in  the  rin-al 
districts.  What  would  Dickens  have  been,  conlined 
i'or  life  to  the  mountains  of  Switzerland?  or  Ivuskin, 
sliut  between  the  dingy  walls  of  London?  No  8t 
John  wouUl  find  heaven  in  tlie  New  York  of  to-day ; 
nor  need  Dante,  in  the  Calitbrnia  Inferno  of  'forty- 
nine,  have  gone  beneath  the  surface  to  find  hell.  A 
desultory  genius  is  apt  to  be  led  away  by  city  life 
and  bustle;  a  bashful  genius  is  too  likely,  in  the 
country,  to  bury  himself  from  necessary  society  and 
knowledge  of  the  world;  a  healthy  genius  finds  the 
gi'cates"t  benefit  in  spending  a  portion  of  the  time  in 
both  city  and  country.  IJlindness  seems  often  an 
aid  rather  than  a  drawback  to  imaginative  writing. 
])emocritus  is  said  to  have  even  made  himself  blind 
in  order  the  better  to  learn;  and  it  was  only  when 
the  light  of  the  world  was  shut  from  the  eyes  of 
]\Iilton  that  the  heavenly  light  broke  forth  in  the 
J'ai-adise  Lost. 

Thus  we  find  that  different  conditions  best  suit 
did'erent  temperaments.  Some  enjoy  scenery,  others 
care  little  for  it;  some  prefer  the  country,  others  the 
city.  To  many,  while  ardently  loving  nature,  and 
liaving  no  predilection  for  coal  smoke  and  the  rattle 
of  vehicles,  being  wholly  absorbed  durhig  active  occu- 
])ation,  time  and  place  are  nothing.  Scenery,  otlier 
than  the  scenery  within,  has  little  to  do  with  true  work. 
If  not  called  to  consciousness  by  some  external  agent, 
tlie  absorbed  worker  hardlv  knows  or  cares  whether  lie 
occupies  a  tent  in  the  wilderness  or  a  parlor  in  the  city. 
Nothing  can  exceed  the  satisfaction,  if  indeed  conge- 
nial and  comfortable,  of  a  room  in  a  country  cottage, 
where  the  student  may  spread  his  books  upon  the  floor, 
sliut  out  superfluous  liglit,  and  wlien  weary,  step  at 
once  into  the  warm  irlowin-jf  sunshine  to  stretch  his 


'22  TUK   ATMOSl'lIKRE. 

linil)S  and  siii(tk(^  a  riirar.  On  tlu;  wliole,  tlu;  country 
olK'j's  superior  advantages,  l»ut  more  on  account  of 
freedom  from  interruption  than  any  otlier  cause. 

ClianL>(%  almost  always  beneficial,  to  many  is  essen- 
tial. Often  many  a  one  with  an  ex((uisite  sense  of 
reli(?f  escapes  from  the  din  and  clatter  of  the  city,  and 
tlu!  harassing  anxietii's  of  business,  to  the  soft  sensuous 
quiet  of  the  country,  with  its  hazy  light,  aromatic  air, 
and  sweet  songs  of  birds.  Thus  freed  for  a  time  from 
killing  care,  and  rejtosing  in  delicious  revc^rie  in  some 
se(piestered  nook,  thought  is  liberated,  swee[)s  the 
universe,  and  looks  its  maker  in  the  face;.  Sky,  hill, 
and  [)lain  are  all  instinct  with  ehxjueiice.  And  best 
of  all,  the  shelter  there;  no  one  to  molest.  All  dav, 
and  all  night,  and  the  morrow,  secure.  No  buzzing 
of  business  about  one's  ears;  no  curious  callers  nor 
stupid  ])hiloso[)liers  to  entertain.  Safe  with  the 
world  walled  out,  and  heaven  oijeniiii;  almvc  and 
around.  Then  ere  long  the  bliss  becomes  tame;  the 
voluptuous  bivatli  of  nature  palls,  her  beauties  be- 
come monotonous,  the  rested  eneruies  ache  for  want 
of  exercise,  and  with  Socrates  the  inconstant  one  ex- 
claims, "Trees  and  tields  tell  me  nothhig;  men  are 
my  teachers!" 

Yet,  after  all,  the  city  only  absorbs  men,  it  does  not 
create  them.  Intellect  at  its  inception,  like  forest- 
trees,  must  have  soil,  sunshine,  and  air;  afterward  it 
may  be  worked  into  divers  mechanisms,  conifortal)le 
honies,  and  tongli  ships.  The  city  consumes  mind 
as  it  consumes  beef  and  potatoes,  and  must  be  con- 
stantly repleni.'-ihed  from  the  country,  otherwise  hfc 
there  exhausts  itself.  Its  atmosphere,  })hysically  and 
morally  deleterious  from  smoke  and  dust  and  oft- 
repeated  breathings,  from  the  perspirations  of  lust 
and  the  miasmatic  vapors  arising  from  sink-holes 
of  vice,  exercises  a  baneful  influence  on  the  youn<i: 
poetic  soul,  as  do  the  stimulating  excesses  of  business 
and  polished  life.  The  passions  of  humanity  con- 
centrated in  masses,  like  ill  cured  hay  in  tlio  stack, 


^ 


MINOR  SURROUXDINGS. 


23 


couii  try 
count  t)f 

IS(!. 

is  esscMi- 
seiiso  of 
3ity,  and 
sensuous 
iiatic  Jiir, 
lino  from 
ill  some 
M'[)S     tlio 

^ky,  l.ill, 
Viul  l)0.st 
All  day, 
)  buzziii'^ 
Hers  nor 
v'xth  the 
Kivc  and 
line;  tlio 
uties  Uo- 
for  want 
t  one  ex- 
men  are 

docs  not 
:e  forest- 
srward  it 
nfortal)le 
les   mind 

Ijc  con- 
wise  life 
cally  and 
and  oft- 

of  Inst 
ink-holes 
ic  yomij^ 

business 
lity  con- 
lie  stack, 


I 


V.fi- 


putrefy  and  send  forth,  in  ])lacc  of  the  sweet  odoi'  of 
iicw-inown  ^rass,  a  humid,  musty  smell,  precursor 
of  iimumcrable  fetid  })ro(lucts.  In  the  country  the 
allections  harmonize  more  with  nature,  ein^eiider  purer 
tlioiights,  and  develop  lovelier  forms  than  in  the 
callous-shouldered  unsympathetic  crowds  of  a  city. 

A  liie  in  closets  and  cloisters  leads  to  one-sidi-d 
fixediu.'ss  of  ideas.  Yet,  though  retirement  often  pro- 
(liu;es  eccentricity,  it  likewise  promotes  originality. 
l]ut  for  his  dislike  for  general  society  Shelley  would 
have  been  a  commonplace  thinker.  To  th(-)Ughtful, 
sensitive  natures,  retirement  is  absolutely  essential. 
Every  man  must  follow  his  own  bent  in  this  rcs[)ect. 
^Method  is  good  in  all  things,  but  it  is  perhaps  better 
t(j  be  without  method  than  to  be  the  slave  of  it.  Dis- 
tance from  the  object  dwelt  upon  often  lends  clear- 
ness to  thought.  Distinctly  audible  are  the  solemn 
strokes  of  the  town  clock  beyond  the  limits  of  the 
\illage,  though  near  at  hand  they  may  be  drowned  by 
the  hum  of  the  moving  multitude. 

There  are  minor  conditions  peculiar  to  individual 
writers  which  stimulate  or  retard  intellectual  labor. 
There  is  the  lazy  man  of  genius,  like  Hazlitt,  who 
never  writes  till  driven  to  it  by  hunger;  unless,  indeed, 
bursting  with  some  subject,  he  throws  it  off  on  paper 
to  find  relief.  Hcnsius  says:  "I  no  sooner  come  into 
tlie  library  but  I  bolt  the  door  to  mo,  excluding 
lust,  ambition,  a^'arice,  and  all  such  vices  whose  nurse 
is  idleness,  the  mother  of  ignorance  and  melancholy. 
In  the  very  lap  of  eternity,  amongst  so  many  diviiu; 
souls,  I  take  my  scat  with  so  lofty  a  s[)irit  and 
sweet  content,  that  I  pity  all  our  great  ones  and 
rich  men  that  know  not  this  haj)[)iness."  Rooms  are 
fiequently  mentioned.  If  favorable  surroundings  ar<! 
so  necessary,  what  shall  we  say  of  the  great  works 
engendered  under  unfavorable  conditions?  But  for 
the  imprisonment  of  Cervantes,  who  cantell  if  ever  the 
world  would  have  known  the  inimitable  Don  Quixote 
and  his  servant  Sancho?     Bunyan's  gi-and  allegory 


■9» 


M  I 


M  THE  ATMOSPHERE. 

was  likcwiso  a  prison  plant,  with  the  Bible  and  jPojj'.f 
Martijrs  as  tlio  author's  library  of  reference.  The 
studios  of  artists  arc  usually  remarkable  for  nothin<^ 
but  their  plain  or  slovenly  appearance, dusty  walls,  with 
cobwebbed  corners,  and  floor  ar.d  furniture  smeared 
witli  paint.  Leslie  and  Turner  both  })ainted  in  very 
plain  rooms.  Gustavo  Dore's  studio  was  furnished 
with  nothin<:j  but  easels,  a  [)lain  taV)le,  and  two  cheap 
chairs.  Goethe's  study  was  exceedingly  plain.  S(!ott 
could  conjpose  very  well  in  the  sitting-room,  surrounded 
by  his  family,  but  of  all  the  elegant  aj)artnients  at 
Abbotsford  lie  preferred  a  small,  pliiin,  quiet  room  in 
which  to  write.  In  the  main,  while  it  makes  little 
difference  to  the  head  whether  the  feet  rest  on  an 
Axnnnster  carjjct  or  <»n  rough  boards,  ov(>rything 
else  being  e(jual,  a  plain  room  Is  ])rof('ral)le  to  one 
olegantly  furnished.  Plain,  liard.  practica]  furniture 
seems  best  to  harmonize  with  plain,  hard,  })ractical 
thouglit.  Writing  is  not  the  soft,  languid  reverie 
that  hixurious  flttintjs  and  furnishings  su'juest :  it  is 
the  hardest  and  most  wearing  of  occupations,  and  it 
.seems  a  mockery,  wlien  the  temples  tbrob  and  the 
bones  ache,  for  the  eye  to  meet  at  every  turn  only 
hivitatit)ns  to  idleness  and  ease.  It  strikes  a  discord 
and  jars  the  sensibilities  when  the  lifted  e^'cs  meet 
objects  more  beautiful  and  graceful  than  tlie  flow  of 
thought  or  the  product  of  the  overworked  brain. 
A  plain  table,  a  cane-bottomed  chair,  and  good  writ- 
ing materials  are  the  best.  So  much  for  immediate 
surroundings. 

To  the  critics  previously  quoted  I  would  say  that 
it  is  folly  swecpingly  to  assert  of  this  or  that  !V':rip  of 
temperate  zone  that  it  is  physically  condii^i  e  to  the 
growth  of  letters  or  otherwise.  Variety  of  food,  of 
.scenery,  of  entertainment  is  the  essential  need  of  the 
mind.  As  for  the  stone  fences  and  east  winds  of  Mrs 
Lippincott,  I  never  knew  them  to  be  specially  stimu- 
lating to  brain  work;  no  better,  at  all  events,  than 


\m^ 


SCENERY  AND  CLIMATE.  85 

llio  sand  and  fog  of  San  Francisco,  or  the  north 
>viiids  and  alternate  reii^ns  of  fire  and  Mater  in  the 
valley  of  California.  If  to  become  a  scholar  it  re- 
qiiirej^  no  discipline  or  selfnlenial  j.,n'eater  than  to 
^vithstand  the  allurements  of  her  bewitchin<^  climate, 
C'ahloi'uia  shall  not  lack  scholars.  When  most  rav- 
islnd  hy  the  charms  of  nature  many  students  find  it 
most  ililKcult  to  tear  themselves  from  work.  Invijjjor- 
alin!4'  air  and  bii^-ht  sunshine,  pui-plc  hills,  misty 
mountains,  and  si)arklin<'  waters  mav  be  enticin<>', 
but  they  ai-e  also  nis])n'mj^. 

Where  were  bleak  JNIassachusetts  and  stony  Con- 
ntctieut  wluMi  Athens,  and  Home,  and  Alexandria 
flourished?  If  barrenness  and  stones  are  more  con- 
ducive to  literature,  the  Skye  Islands  may  claim  to 
be  the  best  place  for  notable  men  of  letters.  I  can 
hardly  believe  that  unless  culture  is  beaten  into  us 
by  scowliuijf  nature  we  nmst  forever  remain  savaires. 
( ).\ygen  is  oxy^'^en,  whether  it  vitalizes  mind  on  the 
Atlantic  or  on  the  Pacific  seaboard;  and  to  the 
student  of  steady  nerves,  absorbed  in  his  labors,  it 
matters  little  whether  his  window  overlooks  a  park 
or  a  preci[)ice.  If  I  remember  rightly  the  country 
about  Stratford- on -Avon  is  not  particularly  rugged, 
neither  is  London  remarkable  for  picturesque  scenery. 
And  surely  there  can  be  little  in  the  climate  of  Cali- 
fornia antagonistic  to  intellectual  attainments.  In 
San  Francisco  there  is  no  incompatibility,  that  I 
can  discover,  between  philoso])hic  insight  and  sand- 
hills. On  the  other  hand,  throughout  the  length 
and  breadth  of  these  Pacific  States  there  are  thou- 
sands of  elements  stimulating  to  mental  activity. 
If  tlie  mountains  of  California  are  too  gigantic  for 
]Mr  Wikle's  present  art,  may  not  man's  capabilities 
some  day  rise  to  meet  the  emergency?  M^xy  not 
intellect  and  art  become  gigantic? 

Agassiz  insists  that  the  climate  of  Europe  is  more 
faNonible  to  literary  labors  than  that  of  America. 
This  I  do  not  believe;  but,  if  admitted,  California  is 


f 


26  THE  ATMOSPHERE. 

bettor  than  Massachusetts,  for  the  climate  of  Cali- 
fornia is  Euopean  rather  than  eastern.  It  is  a 
thinking  air,  this  of  California,  if  such  a  thing  exists 
outside  of  the  imagination  of  sentimentalists;  an  air 
that  generates  and  stimulates  ideas;  a  dry  elastic  air, 
strong,  subtile,  and  serene.  It  has  often  been  noticed 
in  ijoiti<jf  back  and  forth  across  the  continent ;  and  niav 
be  safely  asserted  that  one  can  do  more  and  better 
work  in  California  than  in  the  east.  At  the  same 
time  another  might  prefer  the  eastern  extremes  of 
heat  and  cold.  The  temperature  of  the  Pacific  slope 
is  slightly  raised,  the  thermal  lines  bending  northward 
as  they  cross  the  Rocky  mountains.  Extreme  cold 
we  never  have,  except  on  alpine  altitudes.  On  the 
seaboard  the  atmosphere  throughout  the  entire  year 
is  uniform,  cool,  and  bi'acing:  There  is  little  difference 
between  summer  and  winter,  between  night  and  day; 
one  can  here  woi'k  all  the  time.  Indeed,  so  stimu- 
latint::  and  chanixclcss  is  this  ocean  air  that  men  are 
constantly  lured  to  longer  efforts  than  they  can  en- 
dure, and  a  sudden  breaking  up  of  health  or  a  softened 
brain  is  in  many  instances  the  end  of  excessive  and 
prolonged  labor.  In  the  east  men  are  driven  from 
their  work  by  the  heat  of  summer,  and  the  cold  of 
winter  compels  some  to  rest;  here,  while  nature  rests, 
that  is  during  the  dry  season,  man  can  labor  as  well 
as  at  any  other  time,  but  when  driven  on  by  ambition 
or  competition  he  is  almost  sure  to  lay  upon  his  body 
and  mind  more  than  they  can  long  endure. 

I  do  not  thiidc  there  is  anything  in  the  climate  that 
absorbs  strength  unduly,  or  that  breaks  up  the  con- 
stitution earlier  than  elsewhere ;  the  system  wears  out 
and  falls  to  pieces.  If  this  happens  earlier  in  life 
than  it  ought,  the  cause  is  to  be  found  in  continuous 
and  restless  application,  and  not  in  the  climate.  Ante- 
auriferous  Californians  uniformly  attained  a  ripe  age; 
in  many  cases  four,  five,  and  six  score  years  being 
reached  after  brin<xinj2:  into  the  world  from  fifteen  to 
twenty-five   children.     In   tlie   interior,  during   tho 


I 


INFLUENCE  OF  WEALTH. 


27 


rains  of  winter,  the  climate  is  similar  to  that  of  the 
coast — fresh  and  bracing;  in  summer  the  air  is  hot 
and  dry  during  the  day,  but  cool  and  refreshing  at 
night.  A  moist  hot  climate  is  enervating;  if  the  air 
under  a  vertical  sun  is  dry  the  effect  of  the  heat  is 
much  less  unfavorable.  In  the  warm  valleys  of  the 
Coast  range  students  can  work  without  discomfort 
from  morning  till  night  throughout  the  entire  sum- 
mer, while  in  the  east,  the  temperature  being  the  same, 
or  even  lower,  they  would  be  completely  prostrated. 
Yet,  from  the  whirling  rapidity  of  our  progress,  the 
friction  of  the  machinery  wears  heavily  upon  the 
system.  There  is  little  danger  for  the  present  of 
rusting  out,  with  such  an  exhilarating  climate  to  feed 
energy,  and  such  cunning  ingenuity  to  direct  it. 
I'^xtrcmes,  the  bane  of  humanity,  are  here  as  nicely 
balanced  as  in  the  classic  centres  of  the  Old  World. 
Excessive  heat  and  cold,  humidity  and  dryness,  re- 
dundancy and  sterility,  are  so  far  uncommon  as  not  to 
mtcrfere  with  progress. 

With  reference  to  the  oft-repeated  objections  against 
the  pursuit  of  wealth  because  of  its  influence  on  letters, 
mucli  may  be  said.  From  necessary  labor,  and  from 
the  honorable  and  praiseworthy  enterprise  incident 
to  life  and  independence,  to  an  avaricious  pursuit 
of  wealth  for  the  sake  of  wealth,  the  progress  is  so  im- 
perceptible and  the  change  so  unconscious  'hat  fcvv 
are  able  to  realize  it.  And  if  they  were,  'i  would 
make  no  difference.  All  nature  covets  pow-^r.  Boasts, 
and  men,  and  gods,  all  place  others  under  them  so  far  as 
they  are  able;  and  those  so  subordinated,  whether  by 
fair  Mords,  fraud,  or  violence,  will  forever  after  bow 
their  adoration.  ]\Ioney  is  an  embodiment  of  power: 
therefore  all  men  covet  money.  Most  men  di'sire  it 
with  an  inordinate  crav",  wholly  beyond  its  true 
and  relative  value.  This  craving  fdls  their  being  to 
tlie  exclusion  of  higher,  nobler,  and  what  would  be  to 
them,  if  admitted,  happier  sentiments.     This  is  the 


28 


THE  ATMOSPHERE. 


rule  the  world  over;  the  passion  is  no  stronger  in 
California  than  in  many  other  places.  But  it  has 
hero  its  peculiarities.  Society  under  its  present  regime 
was  begun  on  a  gold-gathering  basis.  In  the  history 
of  the  world  there  never  was  founded  so  important  a 
commonwealth  on  a  skeleton  so  exclusively  metallic. 
Most  of  the  colonial  attempts  of  Asia  and  Europe  have 
been  made  partly  with  the  object  of  religion,  empire, 
agriculture,  commerce.  It  is  true  that  these  avowed 
objects  were  often  little  more  than  pretences,  money 
lying  at  the  root  of  all;  yet  even  the  pretence  was 
better  in  some  respects  than  the  bald,  liard-visaged 
fact.  But  during  the  earlier  epoch  in  California's 
history  three  hundred  thousand  men  and  women  came 
hither  from  various  parts  of  the  world  with  no  other 
object,  entertained  or  expressed,  than  to  obtain  gold  and 
carry  it  away  with  them.  Traditionary  and  conven- 
tional restraints  they  left  at  home.  They  would  get 
money  now,  and  attend  to  other  things  at  another 
time.  Nor  has  the  yellow  ghost  of  this  monetary 
ideal  ever  wholly  abandoncid  the  San  Francisco  sand- 
hills; some  have  secured  the  substance,  but  all  round 
the  Californian  amphitheatre,  since  1849,  penniless 
misers  have  been  hugging,  not  gold,  but  the  empty 
expectation  of  it. 

Some  degree  of  wealth  in  a  community  is  essential 
to  the  culture  of  letters.  Where  all  must  work  con- 
stantly for  bread  the  hope  of  literature  is  ^mall.  On 
the  other  hand  excess  of  wealth  may  be  an  evil.  The 
sudden  and  enormcus  accumulation  of  wealth  exer- 
cises a  most  baneful  influence.  Brave  indeed  must 
be  the  struiftj^les  that  overcome  the  allurements  of 
luxury,  the  subtle,  sensuous  influence  of  wealth,  enter- 
ing as  it  does  the  domains  alike  of  intellect  and  the 
aft'octions,  commanding  nature,  expanding  art,  and 
filling  enlarged  capacities  for  enjoyment.  Yet  he  who 
would  attain  the  highest  must  shake  from  him  these 
entrancing  fetters,  if  ever  fortune  lays  them  on  him, 
and  stand  forth  absolutely  a  free  man.     Poor  as  was 


THE  IRONY  OF  ACCUMULATION. 


» 


Jean  Paul  Richtcr,  he  deemed  his  burden  of  poverty 
less  hard  for  genius  to  bear  than  the  comparative 
wealth  of  Goethe. 

Drop  in  upon  a  man  given  body  and  roul  to  busi- 
ness, a  man  who  has  already  a  thousand  times  more 
than  ever  he  will  rightly  use;  visit  him  in  his  hours 
of  business;  he  calls  his  time  precious,  and  knits  his 
brow  at  you  if  the  interruption  lasts.  His  time 
is  precious?  Yes.  How  much  is  it  worth?  Fifty 
dollars,  five  hundred  dollars  an  hour.  How  much 
are  fifty  or  five  hundred  dollars  worth?  Go  to,  blind 
maggots!  Will  you  not  presently  have  millions  of 
years  of  leisure?  Oh  wise  rich  man,  oh  nol)le  mind 
and  aspirat'on.  to  Mien  sure  moments  by  money! 

The  roruefiy  iii  •  •)  the  disease.  Excess  of  avarice 
that  sinks  rociijtv  so  low,  nauseates.  Thus  the  right- 
minded  mail  will  argue:  If  Plutus  is  always  to  re- 
main a  pig  in  intellect  and  culture,  is  always  to  be 
a  worshipful  pig,  tlie  or^j  adorable  of  his  fellow-pigs, 
to  his  marble-stepped  gilded  sty  with  him  and  his 
money.  I'll  none  of  him.  God  and  this  bright  uni- 
verse beaming  with  intelligence  and  love;  mind  that 
lifts  me  up,  and  makes  me  a  reasoning  creature,  and 
tells  me  what  I  am,  withholding  not  the  sweet  per- 
fume thrown  round  me  by  the  flowers  of  unfoldin'jf 
knowledge;  immortal  soul,  breathing  upon  mind  the 
divine  breath;  and  its  Tiioriai  casement,  the  body, 
limited  to  a  few  short  Crdyn  (■"  this  blessed  sunlight, 
of  drinking  in  soft,  swt  it  >ii»'  and  nature's  many  melo- 
dies— these  will  not  lot  luo  imk,  The  commercial  or 
mechanical  plodder  again  w;''  ^a}'-:  What  are  these 
pitiful  thousands,  or  tens  or  hundreds  of  thousands, 
which  by  a  lifetime  of  faithful  toil  and  economy  I 
have  succeeded  in  getting  together,  when  men  infinitely 
my  inferior  in  ability,  intellect,  and  culture,  by  a  lucky 
stroke  of  fortune  make  their  millions  in  a  month? 
Surely  money  is  no  lor  ^-er  the  measure  of  intelligent 
industry;  it  is  becon)in-  ;v  common  and  less  creditable 
thing:  I'll  worship  it  no  1  -hger.     Even  envy  is  baffled, 


80 


THE  ATMOSPHERE. 


overreached.  These  many  and  mammoth  fortuned 
made  by  stock-gam blini^  and  railway  manipulations  so 
overshadow  and  belittle  lesfitimate  efforts  that  accu- 
mulatorp  arc  constrained  to  pause  and  consider  what 
is  the  right  and  destiny  of  all  this,  and  to  begin  com- 
parisons between  material  wealth  beyond  a  competency 
and  that  wealth  of  mind  which  alone  elevates  and 
ennobles  man. 

Midas  of  the  ass's  ears  is  dead,  choked  on  gold 
given  him  by  offended  deities;  but  Midas  of  the  scr- 
l)cnt,  Midas  of  the  slimy  way,  still  lives,  and  is  among 
us,  sapping  our  industries,  monopolizing  our  products, 
glutting  himself  with  the  hard-ea  .;  '  old  of  our  work- 
ing men  and  women.  Lethimtakt  .rninij;  let  him 
go  bathe  in  Pactolus  and  cleanse  himself  withal. 

The  time  will  surely  come  in  California  when  some 
will  surfeit  of  wealth  and  hold  the  money  struggle 
in  contempt.  They  will  tire  of  the  harpies  of  avarice 
who  snatch  from  them  the  mind-food  for  which  they 
pine,  even  as  the  fabled  harpies  snatched  from  the 
luxury-loving  monarch  Prestor  John  the  food  for 
which  his  body  hungered.  This  western  spurt  of 
enterprise  is  a  century- step  backward  in  certain  kinds 
of  culture. 

San  Francisco  has  absorbed  well-Tiigh  all  that  is  left 
of  the  Inferno.  Take  the  country  at  largo,  and  since 
the  youthful  fire  that  first  flashed  in  our  cities  and 
canons  California  in  some  respects  has  degenerated. 
Avarice  is  a  good  flint  on  which  to  strike  the  metal 
of  our  minds,  but  it  yields  no  steady  flame.  The  hope 
of  sudden  gain  excites  the  passions,  whets  tlie  brain, 
and  rouses  the  energies;  but  when  the  effort  is  over, 
whether  succ  "issful  or  otherwise,  the  mind  sinks  into 
comparative  listlessness.  It  must  have  some  healthier 
pabulum  than  cupidity,  or  it  starves.  The  quality  of 
our  Californian  mind  to-day  may  be  seen  displayed  in 
our  churches  and  in  the  newspajjcr  press.  The  most 
intellectual  and  refined  of  our  pulpit  orators  are  not 
always  the  most  popular.    Clerical  jolly-good-fellow- 


PREACHING  AND  TEACHING. 


31 


fortuned 
itions  so 
lat  accu- 
ler  what 
irin  com- 
ipctency 
ites  and 

on  gold 

the  scr- 
is  amonaj 
3roducts, 
)ur  work- 
;  let  him 
lial. 
len  some 

strui^cjle 
)f  avarice 
lieh  they 
fi'om  the 

food  for 
spurt  of 
ain  kinds 


ship  covers  barrels  of  pulpit  stupidity,  and  is  no  less 
cfTectual  in  the  formation  and  guidance  of  large  flocks 
than  it  is  agrecahlu  to  the  shepherd.  Hard  study, 
broad  views  of  life  and  the  times,  thorough  investi- 
gation of  the  mighty  enginery  that  is  now  driving 
mankind  so  rapidly  forward  materially  and  intel- 
lectually, deep  and  impartial  inquiry  into  the  origin 
and  tendency  of  tilings,  do  not  characterize  clergymen 
as  a  class.  There  are,  however,  some  noble  exceptions 
in  California  as  well  as  elsewhere ;  but  there  must  be 
many  more  if  Christians  would  retain  their  hold  on 
tlie  minds  of  men,  and  stay  tlio  many  thinking  per- 
sons who  are  dropping  off  from  tK'^ir  accustomed 
places  in  the  sanctuary. 

One  other  Influence  adverse  to  the  higher  intellectual 
life  I  will  mention,  and  that  is  promiscuous  reading — 
not  necessarily  so-called  light  reading,  for  there  are 
works  of  fiction  in  the  hicfhcst  dejjree  beneficial, 
more  so  than  many  a  true  narrative;  but  reach ng  in 
which  there  is  neitlicr  healthful  amusement  nor  valu- 
able instruction.  There  is  too  much  readinLj  of  books, 
far  too  much  reading  of  newspapers  and  magazmes, 
for  the  highest  good  of  exact  knowledge,  too  much 
pedagogic  cramming  and  windy  sermonizing, too  little 
l»ractical  thought,  too  little  study  of  nature,  too  little 
cultivation  of  germ -intelligence,  of  those  inherent 
natural  qualities  which  feed  civilization. 

There  is  a  vast  difference  between  what  is  called 
deep  thinking  and  right  thinking.  Thought  may  dive 
deep  into  Stygian  lakes,  into  opaque  pools  of  super- 
stition, so  that  the  deeper  it  goes  the  farther  will  be 
the  remove  from  intellectual  clearness  or  moral  worth. 
AVhat  to  the  heathen  are  the  profound  reveries  of 
the  Christian?  what  to  the  Christian  tlie  myths  and 
doctrines  of  the  heatlien?  A  mind  may  be  talented, 
learned,  devoted,  and  yet  unable  to  find  the  pearls 
of  the  sea  of  Cortes  in  the  brackish  waters  of  the 
Utahs.    One  may  be  blind,  yet  honest;  purblind,  yet 


32 


THE  ATMOSPHERE. 


profound.  It  is  a  mistaken  idea  that  clear  convic- 
tions spring  from  deep  thinking.  Decided  opinions  are 
oftencr  the  result  of  ijjnorance  than  of  right  thinking. 
Particularly  is  this  true  in  regard  to  the  super- 
natural and  unknowable.  Here  clear  thinking  tends 
to  unsettle  pronounced  opinion,  while  study,  research, 
profound  learning  and  deep  thinking  only  sink  the 
inquirer  into  lower  depths  of  conviction,  which  may 
be  false  or  true,  not  as  investigation  is  profound,  but 
as  it  is  rightly  directed.  Impartiality  is  essential  to 
right  thinking;  but  how  can  the  mind  be  impartial  upon 
a  question  predetermined  ?  Right  thinking  comes  only 
where  love  of  truth  rises  above  love  of  self,  of  country, 
of  tradition.  Convictions,  so  called,  arising  from  the 
exercise  of  will  power  are  not  convictions,  but  merely 
expressions  of  will  power.  Of  such  are  the  rank 
weeds  of  prejudice  overspreading  the  fertile  fields 
of  literature,  politics,  and  religion.  Deep  thinking 
is  subtile  and  cunning;  right  thinking  simple  and  in- 
genuous. The  surface  thoughts  of  clear,  practical, 
uncultivated  common-sense  often  lie  neaver  the  truth 
than  the  subtilties  of  the  schools.  Intellect  and  edu- 
cation may  create  profound  thinkers,  but  not  always 
right  thinkers.  Absolute  freedom  from  prejudice  and 
absolute  indifference  as  to  the  ulti:"iates  attained  b}'^ 
freedom  of  thought  are  impossible,  but  the  nearer  an 
';iOuiring  mind  approaches  this  condition  the  more 
ready  it  is  to  receive  unadulterated  truth;  and  truth 
alone,  irrespective  of  hopes  and  fears,  is  the  only  ob- 
ject of  healthy  thought.  In  study,  to  every  height, 
there  is  a  beyond;  round  every  height  a  border  of 
opaque  blue,  and  to  clear  thinking  direction  is  more 
than  distance. 

Pure  unadulterated  truth  is  not  palatable  to  the 
popular  mind.  In  politics  we  would  rather  believe 
the  opposition  all  corruption,  and  our  own  party  all 
purity,  than  to  believe  the  truth.  In  religion  wo 
would  rather  believe  ours  the  only  road  to  heaven, 
and  all  those  who  differ  from  us  doomed  to  a  sure 


EFFECT  OF  NEWSPAPERS. 


33 


IS  more 


eternal  perdition.  In  society  we  enjoy  sweet  scandal 
far  more  tlian  honest  fairness;  and  if  wo  could  drive 
ovu'  unfortunate  brotliers  and  sisters,  all  of  them 
about  whose  skirts  are  the  odors  of  vice — if  wc  could 
drive  the  vicious,  with  hateful  ways,  and  all  those 
who  differ  from  us  as  to  the  best  mode  of  extermi- 
nating vice,  down  to  the  depths  of  despair,  it  would 
suit  our  temper  better  than  manfully  to  recognize  the 
good  there  is  in  Lucifer,  and  lift  up  those  that  have 
fallen  through  no  special  fault  of  their  own. 

Newspapers  have  become  a  necessity  to  our  civili- 
zation, and  though  they  are  bad  masters  they  are 
good  and  indispensable  servants.  As  a  messenger  of 
intelligence;  as  a  stimulant  to  industry  and  knowl- 
ed<ife — thouii^h  not  as  kuowledsxe ;  as  an  instrument  for 
the  enlargement  of  intellectual  vision,  enabling  it  to 
belt  the  earth  and  take  in  at  one  view  all  interests 
and  civilizations;  as  promoting  toleration  in  opinions, 
breaking  down  prejudice,  and  keeping  alive  the  inter- 
ests of  individuals  and  nations  in  each  other;  as  a 
terror  to  evil-doers,  a  lash  held  over  political  hounds — 
too  often  the  only  one  they  fear,  without  which  our 
present  liberal  system  of  government  could  not  stand ; 
and  as  the  exponent  of  current  thougat  and  culture, 
the  newspaper  is  indispensable.  Tnc  newspaper  is 
no  evil,  but  there  is  such  a  thing  as  reading  it  too 
much.  When  deeply  absorbed  in  work  the  true  stu- 
dent will  not  h)ok  at  a  journal  for  weeks,  preferring 
ratlier  to  let  his  mind  pursue  its  course  day  after  day 
without  being  disturbed  by  passing  events.  "Among 
modern  books  avoid  magazine  and  review  literature," 
is  Ruskin's  advice;  yet  magazines  and  reviews  are 
much  more  instructive  reading  as  a  rule  than  news- 
papej\s.  In  moderation  they  are  beneficial  to  the 
student,  being  the  media  which  bring  the  world  as 
guests  to  his  closet  and  keep  from  him  the  evil  of 
solitude. 

We  may  safely  say  that  in  the  hands  of  honest  and 
independent  men,  an  untrammelled  press  is  the  very 


Lit.  Inc.     3 


34 


THE  ATMOSrHERE. 


bulwark  of  society;  in  the  hands  even  of  men  un- 
sainted,  who  arc  not  immaculate  in  their  morals  nor 
above  reproach,  of  men  no  more  honest  than  the  times 
admit,  who  talk  much  of  the  virtue  and  of  the  purity 
of  their  sheet,  but  nevertheless  love  lucre — in  the 
hands  even  of  these  the  public  press  is  a  power  in- 
disjtensable  to  liberty  and  social  safety. 

!^Iost  writers  and  speakers  are  unfair  in  contro- 
versy. Newspapers  are  specially  so.  As  a  rule,  in 
political  affairs  they  do  not  expect  to  be  believed  by 
an}^  but  their  own  party.  In  matters  of  public  inter- 
est or  utility,  what  is  printed  must  first  be  strained 
through  the  colander  of  self-interest  before  it  can 
be  allowed  to  go  forth.  This  self-interest  is  a  beam  in 
the  editor's  eye  which  hides  the  largest  fact  likely  to 
interfere  with  it. 

The  editor  of  a  popular  monthly  will  tell  you  that 
the  reading  of  periodicals  does  not  interfere  with 
thorough  systematic  study.  He  will  say  that  there 
never  were  more  books  bought  and  read  than  now; 
that  transient  literature  excites  a  taste  for  study,  and 
that  science  and  progress  are  fostered  and  stimulated 
by  newspapers.  All  of  this  may  be  true,  and  yet 
the  assertion  hold  good  that  he  who  spends  much 
time  in  skimming  the  frothy  political  decoctions  of 
the  ephemeral  press  never  can  reach  the  profounder 
depths  of  science  and  philosophy.  Nino  tenths  of 
what  is  printed  in  newspapers  consists  of  speculations 
on  what  may  or  may  not  happen.  By  waiting  wo  can 
know  the  result,  if  it  be  worth  knowing,  without 
wasting  time  in  following  it  through  all  the  incipient 
stages. 

But  this  is  not  the  worst  of  it.  Editorial  com- 
ments on  people,  parties,  and  passing  events  are 
seldom  sincere.  There  is  too  often  some  ulterior  in- 
fluence at  work,  some  object  in  view  other  than  that 
of  simply  and  honestly  benefiting  their  readers,  minis- 
tering to  their  intellectual  necessities,  and  giving  them 
the  h  ighest  possible  standard  of  right,  irrespective  of 


INSINTERITY. 


33 


prejudice,  popularity,  or  gain.  Too  often  is  jHiMic 
opinion  pal})al)]_y  atid  absurdly  in  error;  and  too  often 
the  editor  coniUats  or  pampers  public  opinion,  not  in 
accordance  with  what  he  believes  to  be  right,  but 
according  to  tlie  direction  in  which  his  interest  lies. 
J""'requently  a  policy  is  marked  out,  and,  right  or  wrong, 
it  must  bo  maintained.  The  journal  must  be  con- 
sistent with  itself  at  all  hazards,  truth  and  justice 
to  the  contrary  notwithstanding.  The  modern  Bo- 
hemian Avill  write  up  or  down  cither  side  of  any  party 
creed  or  principle  with  equal  willingness  and  lacility. 
It  would  be  deemed  presumption  for  an  employe  of 
the  press  to  attempt  to  change  the  traditions  of  the 
journal  that  employs  him.  Says  Noah  Porter,  "the 
modern  newspaper,  so  far  as  it  is  insincere,  is  immoral 
and  demoralizing."  If  a  newspaper  fails  fully  and 
unequivocally  to  correct,  an  error  as  soon  as  known ; 
if  carried  away  by  partisan  temper  or  tactics  it  states 
a  fact  unfairly,  tells  part  of  the  truth  and  keeps  back 
part;  if  it  indulges  in  the  vilification  of  an  unpopular 
though  not  guilty  person;  if  for  the  sake  of  money,  or 
pride,  or  hatred,  it  advocates  a  cause  knowing  it  to  be 
contrary  to  public  weal;  if  honest  convictions  are 
subordinated  to  popularity  or  the  interests  of  the 
journal;  if  it  resorts  to  devices  and  sensational  reports 
in  order  to  call  attention  to  its  columns  and  thereby 
increase  its  importance  and  circulation,  then  is  it  in- 
sincere, and  consequently  immoral.  Few  approacli 
even  a  fairly  commendable  standard;  but  then  books 
are  often  as  bad.  What  shall  wo  say  of  a  history  of 
Christianity  written  by  a  bigoted  churchman,  or  a 
history  of  America  by  a  strong  partisan,  or  an  at- 
tempt to  establish  a  scientific  tlieory  or  hypothesis 
when  facts  are  collected  on  one  side  only?  These 
are  not  history  and  science,  but  only  pleas  for  one 
side  of  the  question.  As  from  the  clays  of  Patristic 
discussion  to  the  present  time  theologians  have 
deemed  it  necessary  to  keep  back  all  the  truths  of 
God  not  consistent  with  their  dogmas,  so  writers  for 


36 


THE  ATMOSPHERE. 


money  will  send  forth  nothing  to  the  confusion  of 
their  deity. 

Lies,  humbug,  hypocrisy:  these  are  what  the 
people  want  and  will  buy;  and  such  being  the  case, 
they  are  what  our  honorable  journalists  are  bound  to 
furnish.  Nor  should  I  be  disposed  to  censure  them 
severely  if  they  would  honestly  own  to  their  charla- 
tanism, and  not  make  foul  the  air  by  their  professions 
of  honesty  and  integrity,  for  the  chief  fault  is  with 
the  people  who  demand  such  villainous  literature. 
With  an  old  English  divine  the  journalists  may  say, 
"  It  is  hard  to  maintain  truth,  but  still  harder  to  bo 
maintained  by  it;"  or  as  La  Fontaine  more  tersely 
puts  it,  "  Tout  faiseur  do  jouniaux  doit  tribut  au 
Stalin;"  all  editors  of  newspapers  pay  tribute  to  the 
devil. 

Waves  of  opinion  roll  over  the  community,  and 
reason  is  powerless  to  check  them.  Not  until  they 
have  spent  themselves,  one  after  another,  do  men  take 
the  trouble  to  consider  their  good  or  evil  effects. 
The  cunning  journalist  lets  his  boat  ride  tliose  waves, 
well  knowing  the  impolicy  of  any  attempt  to  buffet 
them. 

That  the  editor's  life  is  hard  no  one  for  a  mo- 
ment doubts.  "  Consider  his  leading  articles,"  says 
Carlyle,  "what  they  treat  of,  how  passably  they  are 
done.  Straw  that  has  been  threshed  a  hundred  times 
without  wheat;  ephemeral  sound  of  a  sound;  such 
portent  of  the  hour  as  all  men  have  seen  a  hundred 
times  turn  out  inane;  how  a  man,  with  merely 
human  faculty,  buckles  himself  nightly  with  new 
vigor  and  interest  to  this  threshed  straw,  nightly  gets 
up  new  thunder  about  it;  and  so  goes  on  threshing 
and  thundering  for  a  considerable  series  of  years ;  this 
is  a  fact  remaining  still  to  be  accounted  for  in  human 
physiology.  The  vitality  of  man  is  great."  Of  all 
kinds  of  literary  labor,  writing  for  newspapers  is  the 
best  paid,  pecuniarily,  partly  because  that  class  of 
literature  is  bought  and  read  by  the  people  at  large, 


EFFECT  ON  THE  POPULAR  MIND.  37 

and  i^irtly  in  consequence  of  the  impersonality  of  tlie 
writer,  whose  productions  bring  hhn  little  pleasure  or 
gratiiic  ]  vanity. 

Tal<en  as  a  whole,  and  as  it  is,  the  effect  of  the 
newspaper  press  on  the  mental  temperament  of  ttie 
United  States  is  to  excite  rather  than  instruct. 
TIjc  morbid  appetite  with  which  men  and  their 
families  devour  scandal  and  the  squabbles  of  politi- 
cians is  not  favorable  to  wholesome  literature. 
There  may  be  entertainment  in  criminal  trials,  in 
colunins  of  editorial  vituperation,  in  details  and  dis- 
cussions on  insignificant  and  local  events,  but  there  is 
little  instruction.  Some  of  the  ill  effects  arising  from 
an  inordinate  reading  of  newspapers  are  to  lower  the 
intellectual  tone,  to  influence  the  reader  to  shirk  the 
res})t)nsibility  of  independent  thought,  to  receive 
information  in  the  shape  of  garbled  and  one-sided 
statements,  to  attach  undue  importance  to  novel  and 
sensational  events,  to  magnify  and  distort  the  present 
at  the  expense  of  the  past,  to  dwarf  abstract  concep- 
tion, and  to  occupy  time  which  might  be  better  em- 
})loyed. 

"  The  greatest  evil  of  newspapers,  in  their  effect  on 
intellectual  life,"  says  Hamerton,  "  is  the  enormous 
importance  they  are  obliged  to  attach  to  mere  novelty. 
From  the  intellectual  point  of  view,  it  is  of  no  conse- 
(juence  whether  a  thought  occurred  twenty-two  cen- 
turies ago  to  Aristotle  or  yesterday  evening  to  j\Ir 
Charles  Darwin;  and  it  is  one  of  the  distinctive  marks 
of  the  truly  intellectual  to  be  able  to  take  a  hearty 
interest  in  all  truth,  independently  of  the  date  of  its 
discovery.  The  emphasis  given  by  newspapers  to 
novelty  exhibits  things  in  wrong  relations,  as  the 
lantern  shows  you  what  is  nearest  at  the  cost  of 
making  the  general  landscape  appear  darker  by  the 
contrast."  Auguste  Comte  not  only  religiously  ab- 
stained from  newspaper,?;  but  from  holding  conversa- 
tion with  men  of  ordinary  intellect. 

Newspapers  are  not  intended  to  educate  so  much 


III 


38 


THE  ATMOSPHERE. 


as  to  cnliglitcn;  givlni^  only  the  current  gossip  of  tlio 
(lay  tliroii^^lioiit  tlio  world,  they  do  not  pretend  to 
earry  their  readers  thi'ough  a  course  of  study.  The 
events  recorded  by  the  ephemeral  press  are  most  of 
thcni  foi-gotten  as  soon  as  read;  they  leave  nothing  to 
c;nrieh  the  mind.  I  do  not  say  that  it  is  l)etter  n(.)t  to 
read  at  all  than  to  read  periodical  literature.  Maga- 
zines and  newspapers  are  undoubtedly  doing  as  much 
in  their  way  to  break  down  the  black  walls  of  igno- 
rance and  stuj)idity,  and  to  advance  science  and  exact 
knowledge,  as  books,  and  perhajis  more.  The  world 
is  IvL'pt  alivi',  is  kept  charged  with  electrical  progress- 
\\e  energy,  by  newspapers,  telegraphs,  and  railroads, 
i)ut  these  are  neither  history,  nor  science,  nor  any 
other  part  of  serious  ctudy. 

There  is  as  much  original  thinkiniy  in  California,  in 
propfirtion  to  the  population,  I  venture  to  assert,  as 
ajiy  where  else  on  the  globe;  yet  even  here  what  worlds 
of  eni])ty  words  for  atoms  of  inspiration!  What  we 
want  is  a  tliinking-school  for  teachers,  for  learners,  for 
w  riters,  for  readers,  and  for  all  who  cultivate  or  ex- 
])ross  o})inion.  More  than  in  most  places,  public 
opinion  here  rules  tlie  press  instead  of  being  ruled 
l)y  it.  There  is  here  more  life  and  activity  in  the 
newspaper  press  than  in  most  older  communities. 
Since  the  gold-discovery  there  have  been  published 
on  tills  coast  more  newspapers  in  proportion  to  the 
poj)u]ation  than  the  world  has  ever  before  seen. 

Half  a  century  ago,  when  one  weekly  journal  was 
considered  sufficient  for  that  kind  of  intellectual  re- 
quirement, the  members  of  a  household  having  books 
at  its  connnand  were  more  thoroughly  trained  in  litera- 
ture and  general  knowledge  than  now.  He  who  reads 
only  newspapers  never  can  be  generally  intelligent, 
not  to  sa}^  learned.  The  culture  of  the  early  Greeks 
has  in  some  respects  never  been  equalled.  What 
nuist  have  been  the  mental  condition  of  a  people 
whose  masses  could  delight  in^schylus?  American 
masses  think  Shakespeare's  tragedies  dry  and  severe; 


THE  PEOPLE  TO  BLAME. 


39 


uitli  their  sv  ^  itivo  Ixvautics  and  their  siniph^  plots, 
they  arc  too  tlitiicult  for  their  untrained  minds  to  fol- 
low. Yet  yEschyliis,  which  an  Athenian  of  ordinary 
iiitellio'cnce  enjoyed  at  the  lirst  hearing-,  is  as  niueh 
nioie  ditlicult  of  appreciation  than  Shakespeare  as 
Sliakespeare  is  more  difficult  than  a  dime  novel.  In 
what  lav  the  mental  superiority  of  the  Athenians  in 
this  direction, unless  it  was  that, being  less  trannnelletl 
\\  itli  the  multiplicity  of  excitinj^-  interests  and  events, 
such  as  an  undue  study  of  the  newspaper  fosters, 
their  minds  were  occupied  with  purer  learnin;^'?  The 
Athenian  had  few  books  and  few  models,  but  these 
were  of  great  excellence. 

The  newspaper  is  blamed  because  its  readers  like 
disgraceful  scandals,  highly  wrought  accounts  of  de- 
I'alcations,  suicides,  conjugal  iniidelity,  and  nuu'ders; 
and  l)ccause  to  them  the  records  of  virtue  are  tame 
and  vice  alone  is  spicy.  This  is  folly.  Everybody 
knows  that  a  newspaper  is  i)ublished  to  make  money, 
and  the  proprietor  is  no  more  to  be  censured  for 
adc  g  the  profitable  course  than  the  prostitute, 
the  ician,  the  clergyman,  or  the  man  of  merchan- 

dise. Here,  as  everywhere,  when  evil  stalks  abroad 
the  people  are  ready  to  blame  any  but  themselves, 
who  are  alone  to  blame.  Women  will  be  as  virtuous  as 
men  permit  them  to  be,  and  not  more  so.  Theatres 
will  produce  such  spectacles  as  the  public  wish  most, 
and  will  pay  most,  to  see.  Books  or  newspapers  will 
bo  moral  or  immoral,  honest  or  dishonest,  as  the 
people  are  moral  and  honest.  To  see  in  any  comum- 
nity  a  vulgar  mendacious  sheet  with  a  large  circula- 
tion is  sure  evidence  that  a  large  part  of  the  people 
arc  low  and  lying.  The  fastness  of  our  fast  life  is 
increased  tenfold  by  the  newspapers.  They  keep  the 
minds  of  men  and  women  in  a  constant  ferment, 
and  create  a  morbid  appetite,  which,  as  it  is  indulged, 
settles  into  a  fixed  habit,  so  that  to  sit  down  to  study, 
to  the  steady  perusal  of  history,  or  science,  or  any 
liook  which  will  really  improve  the  mind,  is  not  to  be 


40 


THE  ATMOSPHERE. 


tliouijlif:  of  when  three  or  four  unread  newspapers  and 
magazines  He  upon  the  table  filled  with  the  doings  of 
the  day,  political  battles,  local  quarrels,  and  scandal, 
with  flaunting  essays  for  the  mother,  flashy  poems  for 
the  sentimental  daughter,  and  unhealthy  tales  for  the 
aspiring  youth. 

The  beneficial  influence  of  intelligent  homes  sliould 
be  extended  in  order  to  eradicate  the  evils  of  onmivo- 
rous  reading.  Home  and  contentment  are  in  them- 
selves elements  of  intellectual  strength.  The  home  of 
the  jirovident  man  is  more  than  a  well  built  and 
furnished  house;  it  is  to  wife  and  children  a  daily 
oblation  sifj^nificant  of  his  beimjj  and  doiniif.  The  house, 
and  all  its  belongings,  rooms,  furniture,  pictures,  and 
books,  bear  upon  them  his  own  stamp,  breathe  upon 
him  their  sympathy,  tender  him  a  mute  farewell  when 
he  goes,  and  welcome  him  when  he  returns. 

In  reviewing  the  effect  of  California  social  atmos- 
phere on  intellectual  culture  we  sliould  glance  at  the 
body  social,  its  origin  and  its  dcstin}'^,  the  character 
of  the  first  comers,  the  cause  of  their  coming,  the 
apprenticeship  to  which  they  were  subjected  on  their 
arrival,  and  finally  the  triumph  of  the  good  and  the 
confusion  of  the  evil.  It  was  no  pilgrim  band,  these 
gold-seeking  emigrants,  fleeing  from  persecution;  it 
was  not  a  conquest  for  dominion  or  territory;  nor 
was  it  a  missionary  enterprise,  nor  a  theoretical 
republic.  It  was  a  stampede  of  the  nations,  a  hurried 
gathering  in  a  magnificent  wilderness  for  purposes 
of  innuediate  gain  by  mining  for  gold,  and  was  un- 
precedented in  the  annals  of  the  race.  Knowing  all 
this  as  we  now  do;  knowing  the  metal  these  n*;.'n 
were  made  of,  the  calibre  of  their  minds,  tlie  fiery 
furnace  of  exi)ericnce  through  which  they  passed; 
knowing  what  they  are,  what  they  have  done,  M'hat 
they  are  doing,  is  it  not  idle  to  ask  if  men  like  these, 
or  the  sons  of  such  men, can  achieve  literature?  They 
can  do  anything.     They  halt  not  at  any  obstacle  sur- 


4 


:>apors  and 
doinu^.s  of 
d  scautlal, 
poems  for 
lus  for  tho 

ics  should 
>f  oinnivo- 
in  tlicm- 
0  ] ionic  of 
built  and 
n  a  daily 
^ho  house, 
turos,  and 
itlie  upon 
kvell  when 


CALIFORNIA^  CHAEACTER.  41 

mountable  by  man.  They  pause  discomfited  only  upon 
tlic  threshold  of  the  unknowable  and  the  impossible 
Tho  literary  atmosphere  of  which  we  speak  is  not  here 
to-day;  but  hither  the  winds  from  the  remotest  corners 
of  the  earth  arc  wafting  it;  all  knowledge  and  all 
liunian  activities  are  placed  under  contribution,  and 
out  of  this  alembic  of  universal  knowledo-c  will  in  duo 
time  be  distilled  the  fine  gold  of  Letters 


a]  atmos- 
ice  at  tho 
character 
ning,  tho 
1  on  their 
1  and  the 
ind,  these 
3ution;  it 
torj;  nor 
lioorotical 
a  hurried 
purposes 
i  was  un- 
owing  all 
lose  ii*',Mi 
the  fiery 
r  passed; 
)ne,  what 
ke  tliese, 
e?  They 
tacle  sur- 


M 


CHAPTER  III. 

SPRINGS  AXD  LITTLE  BROOKS. 

On  fait  prosquc  toujours  les  prandea  choscs  sans  savoir  oommcnt  on  les 
fait,  c't  on  ust  tout  surpris  qu'on  Ics  a  faitcs.  Denuintlcz  ii  C'l  sur  loninicnt  il 
BO  rendit  lo  niaitro  du  niondc;  peut-ijtrc  ue  vou3  repoudra-t-il  i»a.-)  aiaonient. 

Ihnltndle, 

Seiimonize  as  we  may  on  fields  and  atmospheres, 
internal  agencies  and  environment,  at  the  end  of  life 
we  know  little  more  of  the  intkienees  tluit  moulded 
us  than  at  the  beginning.  Without  rudder  or  com- 
pjuss  our  bark  is  sent  forth  on  the  stormy  sea,  and 
although  we  fancy  we  know  our  present  haven,  the 
trackless  ]iath  by  wliicli  we  came  hither  we  cannot 
retrace.  The  lecord  of  a  life  written — what  is  it? 
lietween  the  lines  are  characters  invisible  which 
might  tell  us  something  could  we  translate  them. 
They  might  tell  us  something  of  those  ancient  riddles, 
origin  and  destiny,  free-will  and  necessity,  discussed 
imtler  various  names  by  learned  men  through  the 
centuries,  and  all  without  having  penetrated  one 
hair's  breadth  into  the  mystery,  all  without  having 
gained  any  knowledge  of  the  subject  not  possessed  by 
men  i)rimeval.  In  this  mighty  and  universal  sti-aining 
to  fathom  the  unknowable,  Plato,  the  philosopliie 
Greek,  seems  to  succeed  no  better  than  Moncacht 
Ape,  the  philosophic  savage. 

This  much  progress,  however,  has  been  made; 
there  arc  men  now  living  who  admit  that  tliey  know 
nothing  about  such  matters;  that  after  a  lifetime  of 
stUily  and  meditation  the  eyes  of  the  brightest  intel- 
lect can  see  beyond  the  sky  uo  farther  than  those  of 

[42] 


ORIGIN  AXD  DESTINY. 


43 


ninent  on  les 
ir  comniont  il 
[)as  aiaemeut. 
FoiUcndle. 

losplicros, 
:ud  of  lifo 
;  moulded 
r  or  coiu- 
y  sea,  and 
lavcii,  the 
\'o  cannot 
hat  is  it? 
)lu    which 
ite    them. 
it  riddles, 
discussed 
k)Ugh  the 
a  ted    one 
it  havini^ 
sessed  l)y 
strainin?^ 
lilosophic 
loncacht 

>n  made; 
ley  know 
fetime  of 
test  intel- 
thosc  of 
Ml 


the  most  unlearned  dolt.  And  they  arc  the  sti'onjj^ost 
who  acknowledj^c  their  weakness  in  this  regard;  they 
aie  tlic  wisest  who  confess  their  ignorance.  Even  the 
ancients  understood  this,  thouLjli  bv  the  mouth  of 
Terentius  they  put  the  proposition  a  little  differently: 
"  Faciunt  na3  intclligcndo,  ut  nihil  intelligant;"  hy  too 
much  knowledge  men  bring  it  about  that  they  know 
notl liner.  Confining  our  invcstiixations  to  the  walks 
of  literature,  surely  one  would  think  genius  might  tell 
something  of  itself,  something  of  its  inceptions  and 
iiispii'ations.  But  what  says  genius?  "  They  ask  me," 
.•()mplaius  Goethe  of  the  perplexed  critics  who  sought 
ill  vain  the  moral  design  of  his  play,  "wliat  idea  I 
wished  to  incorporate  with  my  Faust.  Can  I  know 
it '.  Or,  if  I  know,  can  I  put  it  into  words?"  A  similar 
ii'tort  was  made  by  Sheridan  Knowles  to  a  question 
li\  Douglas  Jerrold,  who  asked  the  explanation  of  a 
certain  unintclhgiblo  incident  in  the  })lot  of  The 
If'inclthack.  "  My  dear  boy,"  said  Knowles,  "  upi  )ii  my 
word  I  can't  toll  you.     Plots  write  themselves." 

V.  liy  we  are  what  we  are,  and  not  some  other 
;Mson  or  thing;  why  we  do  as  we  do,  turning  hither 
iiistuad  of  thither,  arc  problems  which  will  be  solved 
only  with  the  great  and  universal  exposition.  And 
vet  there  is  little  that  seems  stranc^ti  to  us  in  our 
movements.  Things  appear  wonderful  as  they  are 
uiilamiliar;  in  the  unknown  and  unfathomed  we  think 
we  see  Clod;  but  is  anything  known  or  fathomed? 
A\  ho  shall  measure  mind,  wo  say,  or  paint  the  soul,  or 
lend  the  veil  that  separates  eternity  and  time?  Yet. 
do  M-e  but  think  of  it,  cverythin'jf  relatin''-  to  mankind 

11  •  •  • 

and  the  universe  is  strange,  the  spring  that  moves  the 
mind  of  man  not  more  than  the  mechanism  on  which 
it  presses.  "  How  wonderful  is  death!"  says  Shelley; 
hut  surely  not  more  wonderful  than  life  or  intellect 
whicli  l)riiigs  us  consciousness.  Wo  sec  the  youth's 
hi.  ached  body  carried  to  the  grave,  and  wondei-  at 
the  absence  of  that  life  so  l.itely  animating  it,  and 
'jucstion  what  it  is,  whence  it  came,  and  whither  it 


44 


SPRINGS  AND  LITTLE  BROOKS. 


lias  flown.  AVo  call  to  mind  whatever  there  may  have 
been  in  tliat  youth's  nature  of  j)romise  or  of  singular 
excellence;  hut  the  common  actions  of  the  youth,  tht; 
while  he  lived,  wo  deem  accountahlc,  and  pass  them 
hy  because  of  on/  familiarity  with  like  acts  in  others. 
We  see  nations  rise  and  die,  worlds  form  and  crumble, 
and  wonder  at  the  universe  unfading,  but  the  mimiti;v3 
of  evolution,  the  proximate  little  things  that  day  l)y  <lay 
go  to  make  up  the  great  ones,  we  think  we  undei'stand, 
and  wonder  at  them  not  at  all.  It  was  regarded  an 
easy  matter  a  century  ago  to  define  a  mineral,  plant, 
or  animal,  but  he  is  a  bold  man  indeed  who  attempts 
to-dav  to  tell  what  these  things  are.  Then,  as  now, 
only  that  was  strange  which  people  acknowledged 
they  did  not  understand;  and  as  there  was  little  which 
they  would  voluntarily  throw  into  that  category,  each 
referring  unknowable  plienomena  to  his  own  j>eculiar 
superstition  for  solution, there  was  comparatively  little 
in  the  universe  wonderful  to  them. 

Therefore,  not  wishing  to  be  classed  among  the 
ignorant  and  doltish  of  by-gone  ages,  but  rather 
among  this  wise  generation,  in  answer  to  that  pai-t  of 
Mr  Nordhoff's  wonderings  why  I  left  business  and 
embarked  in  literature,  I  say  I  cannot  tell.  Ask  the 
mother  wli}^  she  so  lovingly  nui'ses  her  little  one, 
watchiniif  with  tender  solicitude  its  growth  to  vouth 
and  manhood,  only  to  send  it  forth  weaned,  ]>erha[)s 
indifferent  or  ungrateful,  to  accomplish  its  destiny. 
Litc^rature  is  my  love,  a  love  sprung  from  my  brain, 
no  less  my  child  than  the  offspring  of  my  IkkIv.  In 
its  conception  and  l)irth  is  ])resent  the  parental  in- 
stinct, in  its  cultivation  and  development  the  parental 
care,  in  its  results  the  parental  anxiety.  Tlu're  nw 
those,  says  Hannnerton,  "who  are  urged  toward  tiu^ 
intellectual  life  by  irresistible  instincts,  as  water- fowl 
are  urged  to  an  a(]uatic  life.  ...  If  a  man  has  got 
high  mental  culture  <luring  his  passage  tln'ough  life, 
it  is  of  little  consequence  where  he  accpiired  it,  or 
how.     The  school  of  the  intellectual  mah  is  the  place 


CAUSATIONS. 


45 


s'mn'ular 
:mtli,  the 
iss  tlieiii 
Ti  otliors. 
cniiul>le, 
I  mil  Hit  1:13 
ivy  l)y  (lay 
derstand, 
;ar<lc(l  an 
•al,  plant, 
attempts 
I,  as  now, 
owlcdjjjed 
:tle  whicli 
jfory,  each 
n  pei'Uliar 
vely  little 

inong  the 

|ut    ratlier 

at  paii  of 

ness  and 

Ask  tlie 
ttle  one, 
:(->  yonth 
,  ])(.'rhaps 

destiny, 
ny  l)rain, 
>ody.     In 

ental   in- 

pa  rental 
There  ai'e 
ward   tin* 

ater-fowl 
I  has  ij^ot 
o\hj;]\  life, 

ed    it,  or 


wliore  ho  happens  to  bo,  and  his  teachers  arc  the 
people,  liook.s,  animals,  plants,  stones,  and  earth  round 
about  him." 

There  are  millions  of  causes,  then,  why  wo  are  what 
we  are,  and  when  we  can  enumerate  but  a  few  score 
of  rliem  vve  rio-htly  say  we  do  not  know.  In  mv  own 
(•as  '.  that  I  was  born  in  central  Ohio  rather  than  in 
Oahu  is  one  cause;  that  my  ancestors  were  of  that 
stern  puritan  stock  that  delighted  in  self-denial  and 
(.■fll'ctive  well-doing,  sparing  none,  and  least  of  all 
llirniselves,  in  their  rigid  proselyting  zeal,  is  another 
cause;  the  hills  and  vales  around  mv  home,  the  woods 
and  meadows  through  which  I  roamed,  my  daily 
tasks — no  pretence  alone  of  work — that  wer-e  the  be- 
ginning of  a  life-long  practice  of  mental  and  muscular 
gvnmastics,  were  causes;  e\ery  opening  of  the  eye, 
vvcYy  wave  of  nature's  inspiration,  was  a  cause.  And 
thus  it  ever  is.  Every  ray  of  sunshine  thnnvn  upon 
•  >ur  path,  ever}'^  shower  that  waters  our  efforts,  every 
>t"rni  that  toughens  our  sinews,  swells  the  influence 
that  makes  us  what  we  are.  The  lights  and  shades  of 
a  single  day  color  one's  \vliole  existence.  There  is  no 
drrip  (if  dew,  no  breath  of  air,  no  shore,  no  sea,  no 
]j<.avenly  star,  bvit  writes  its  influence  on  our  destiny. 
In  the  morning  of  life  the  infant  sleeps  into  strength, 
and  while  he  sleeps  are  planted  the  seeds  of  his  fate; 
t'  ir  weal  or  woe  are  planted  the  fiijj-tree  and  the  thorn- 
tire,  fan-  flowers  and  noisome  weeds.  Then  are  born 
iiavings  for  qualities  and  forms  of  existence,  high 
aspirations  and  debasing  aj)petites;  the  poetic,  the 
sai  red,  the  sublime,  and  love,  and  longings,  are  there 
in  their  incipiency;  hate,  and  all  the  influences  for 
evil  mingling  with  the  rest.  Wra]>ped  in  the  mys- 
terious enfoldings  of  fate  are  these  innumerable 
spiings  of  thought  and  action,  for  the  most  part  dor- 
mant till  wakened  by  the  sunshine  and  storm  wherein 
tli'V  bask  and  battle  to  the  end. 

And  later  in  the  life  of  the  man,  of  the  nation,  or 


46 


SPRINGS  AND  LITTLE  BROOKS. 


the  evolution  of  a  principle,  how  frequently  insignifi- 
cant is  the  only  appearing  cause  of  mighty  change. 
!Mo]ianiiin'(l,  a  tiatlesnian's  clerk,  was  constrained  to 
marry  ]iis  mistress  and  turn  propliet,  and  thei-efrom 
arose  a  power  wliich  wellnigli  overwhelmed  Christen- 
dom. Luth(n-'s  sleep  was  troubled  with  impish  dreams, 
and  liis  widcing  hours  with  the  presence  of  papal  in- 
dnlgcMices,  from  whicli  results  of  indigestion,  brain  op- 
pression, or  extrinsic  pressure  of  progress,  tlie  church 
was  sliorn  of  a  good  share  of  its  authority,  l^'rog 
soup  was  one  day  in  1790  prescribed  as  a  suitable  diet 
for  a  lady  of  Bologna,  Signora  Galvani ;  and  but  for 
this  homely  incident  the  existence  of  what  we  call 
galvanism  might  not  have  been  discovered  to  this  day. 
Joseph  Smith's  revelation  put  into  his  hands  the 
metal-plated  book  of  ^Mormon,  though  unfortunately 
for  his  followers  it  was  some  tliree  centuries  late  in 
appearing. 

Lucian's  first  occupation  was  making  gods,  a  busi- 
ness (juite  extensively  indulged  in  by  all  men  of  all 
aixcs — making  deities  and  demolishing  them:  carving 
them  in  wood,  or  out  of  airy  nothings,  and  then  set- 
ting them  a-fightinix.  Lucian  used  to  cut  Mercui-ies 
out  of  marble  in  his  uncle's  workshop.  Thence  he 
descended  to  humldc]*  undertakings,  learned  to  write, 
and  finally  handled  the  gods  somewhat  roughly.  Tims 
with  him  the  one  occupation  followed  closely  on  the 
other.  Thomas  Hood's  father  was  a  bookseller,  and 
his  uncle  an  engraver.  Disgusted  first  witli  a  mer- 
cantile  and  afterward  with  a  mechanical  occupation, 
Hood  took  to  verse-making,  and  finally  abandoned 
himself  wholly  to  literature.  And  there  is  at  least 
one  instance  where  a  young  scribbler,  Planchc,  re- 
solved to  be  a  bookseller  so  that  he  micjht  have  the 
opportunity  of  publishing  his  own  works;  in  accoi-d- 
nnce  with  which  determination  he  apprenticed  him- 


ppren 


self,  though  shortly  afterward,  not  finding  in  the 
connection  the  benefits  imagined,  he  took  to  play- 
actiniTf  and  writinir.    An  author  of  cfonius  sometimes 


FAMILY  HISTORY. 


47 


rises  into  notice  l)y  sti'ikin'^  aefidontally  tlic  key-note 
of  popular  fancy  or  jirejiidico  which  sounds  Ids  fame. 
I"^ntil  Sam  Wcller,  a  cliaracter  which  genius  alone 
could  construct,  was  brought  before  the  world,  the 
Pickwick  J^ipcrs,  then  and  for  five  months  pnnious 
issued  by  Chapman  and  Hall  as  <a  serial,  was  a  failure. 
tJolm  Stuart  Mill  claims  to  have  been  not  alxne  the 
average  boy  or  girl  in  natural  mind  powers,  but 
credits  his  talents  to  his  father's  superior  manage- 
ment of  his  youtli;  indeed,  until  so  told  by  his  father 
lie  was  not  aware  that  he  knew  more  than  other  boys, 
or  was  more  thoughtful,  intelligent,  or  learned,  and 
accepted  the  information  as  a  fact  rather  than  a  com- 
))limcnt.  And  so  we  might  study  life's  mosaic  forever, 
licre  and  there  finding — though  more  frequently  not — - 
what  appears  the  immediate  agency  that  wrouglit  in 
us  the  love  of  letters,  or  any  other  love.  In  my  own 
case  I  may  further  surmise  with  Sir  Thomas  Browne 
that  T  was  l)orn  in  the  planetary  hour  of  Saturn, 
and  was  ever  after  held  a  victim  to  his  leaden  sway, 
by  which  pernicious  influence  the  stream  of  my  life 
was  jK'vverted  from  plain  honest  gold-getting  into 
the  (piicksands  of  literatui'e. 

Mj  father  was  born  in  Massacliusetts ;  his  father's 
great-great-grandfather,  John  Bancroft,  came  from 
London  in  the  ship  James  in  1 032.  My  father's  great- 
grcat-grandparents  were  Nathaniel  and  Ruth  Ban- 
croft, whose  son  Samuel  was  born  July  8,  1711, 
and  died  July  G,  1788.  Sarah  White  was  Samuel's 
wife;  and  their  son  Samuel,  my  father's  grandfather, 
was  born  at  West  Springfield,  ^lassachusetts,  A[)ril 
22, 1737.  His  father,  Azariali  Bancroft,  the  eldest  (»f 
nine  children,  was  born  in  Granville,  ^Massachusetts, 
April  13,  1708;  and  on  the  2jth  of  January,  17'.)9,  my 
father  was  born  in  Granville,  the  fourth  in  a  family 
of  eleven.  His  great -grand})a rents  removed  to 
(Jranville,  Massachusetts,  in  1738,  when  Samuel 
]  nmcroft  was  a  year  old — the  first  settlers  coming  to 


I  : 


48 


SPRINGS  AXD  LITTLE  BROOKS. 


Granville  the  year  lie  was  born.  In  the  book  entitled 
A  Golden  Weddimj  my  fatlier  says:  "My  recol- 
lections of  my  jT^rand father  are  vivid  and  pleasant. 
He  Avas  a  tall,  thin,  voluble  old  gentleman,  fond  of 
company,  jokes,  and  anecdotes.  He  served  in  tiie 
French  and  Indian  \\'M\  and  afterward  in  the  Eevo- 
hitionary  war  witli  the  rank  of  lieutenant.  IIo  was 
paid  (jff  in  continental  money,  receiving  it  in  sheets, 
which  he  never  cut  apart,  lie  was  very  fond  of  re- 
lating incidents  of  the  war,  and  was  never  happier 
than  when  surrounded  by  old  comrades  and  neigli- 
lK)rs,  talking  over  different  campaigns,  with  a  mug 
of  cider  warming  before  the  fire."  'Slini-leu's'  he  was 
called  by  the  soldiers.  He  married  Elizabetli  Spel- 
man,  and  died  January  2, 1820. 

From  my  grandfather,  Azariah  Bancroft,  who 
mari'iod  Tabitha,  daughter  of  Gerard  Pratt,  and  from 
the  wife  of  the  latter,  sometime  called  Dorcas  Ashley, 
my  fiithcr  derived  his  name  Azariah  Ashley.  This 
Gerard  Pratt  was  quite  a  character,  and  displayed 
enough  peculiarities,  which  were  not  aflected,  to  en- 
title his  name  to  be  placed  on  the  roll  of  great  men 
or  men  of  genius.  For  example,  constantly  in  season 
and  out  of  season  he  wore  his  hat,  a  broad -brimmed 
(juakerish-looking  affair,  although  he  was  no  quaker. 
It  was  the  last  article  of  apparel  to  bo  removed  at 
night,  when  he  placed  it  on  the  bedpost,  the  first 
to  be  put  on  in  the  morning  when  he  arose,  and  it 
was  removed  during  the  day  only  when  he  asked 
the  blessing  at  table,  which  was  done  standinof,  and 
during  that  time  he  held  it  in  his  hand,  replacing 
it  beibre  beginning  to  eat.  Half  a  mile  from  the  old 
town  of  Granville,  Massachusetts,  lived  these  great- 
grand-])arents  of  mine,  on  two  acres  of  good  garden 
land,  with  a  sniall  orchard  in  which  were  six  famous 
seek -no -farther  apple-trees,  reserved  from  the  old 
family  farm,  afterward  owned  by  their  son-in-law, 
James  Barlow.  They  were  aged  and  infirm  when  my 
father,  then  a  small  boy,  qhwc  every  year  to  help  his 


OLD  GRANVILLK. 


-19 


entitled 
y    recol- 
pleasant. 
,  fond  of 
d  in  the 
le  T?c vo- 
ile wa^ 
n  sheets, 
nd  of  rc- 
'  happier 
id  neigh- 
h  a  mug 
Ts'  he  was 
kli  Spel- 

roft,    who 
,  and  from 
as  Ashley, 
ley.    This 
displayed 
;cd,  to  en- 
great  men 
r  in  season 
-brimmed 
lio  quaker. 
moved  at 
the   first 
fse,  and  it 
he  asked 
ding,  and 
replacing 
im  the  old 
ese  grcat- 
,od  garden 
ix  famous 
m  the  old 
,n-in-law, 
when  my 
o  help  his 


frijiiulfatlier  dig  and  store  his  potatoes,  and  gather 
an<l  sell  ]iis  apples,  the  tine  seek-iio-iartliers  readily 
hiiiigiiig  a  cent  apiece  by  the  dozt>ii.  His  gi-and- 
iiKitlier  met  her  death  from  an  accident  at  ninety-tivc 
A  Hiili'  and  a  half  IVom  this  Pratt  farm  lived  niy 
grandfatlu'r  Bancroft,  a  man  of  good  judgment,  actiw 
in  light  ojien-air  wtirk,  tliough  not  of  sound  licahh, 
for  he  was  atllicted  with  asthma.  My  granihnothfr 
was  a  woman  of  great  enihuvince,  tall  and  slender, 
with  a  facility  for  accomplishing  work  which  was  a 
marvel  to  her  neighbcjrs.  "  She  did  not  possess  great 
])livsical  force,"  says  my  father  in  his  journal,  "hut 
managed  to  accomplish  no  inconsiderable  work  in 
narinij:  a  laru'e  familv,  and  providinu:  both  for  their 
temporal  and  spiritual  wants— clothing  them  accord- 
ing to  the  custom  of  the  time  with  the  wool  and  ilax 
of  her  own  si)iiming.  Tlio  raw  matei'ial  entered  the 
house  from  the  farm,  and  never  left  it  except  as 
warm  durable  garments  upon  the  backs  of  its  inmates. 
The  fabric  was  quite  good,  as  good  at  least  as  that  of 
our  neiixhbors,  thouiih  I  oun'ht  to  admit  that  it  would 
not  compare  with  the  ]Mission  woollen  goods  of  San 
Francisco;  still,  1  think  a  peep  into  my  mother's 
factory  as  it  was  in  the  year  1800  would  be  found 
interesting  to  her  descendants  of  the  present  day. 
This  was  before  the  day  of  our  country  carding  ma- 
chines. My  mother  had  nine  operatives  at  this  time, 
of  ditferent  ages,  and  not  a  drone  among  us  all.  All 
were  busy  with  the  little  picking  machines,  the  hand- 
cards,  the  spinning-wheel,  and  the  loom.  It  can  be 
well  imagined  that  my  mother  was  much  occupied 
in  her  daily  duties,  yet  she  found  time  to  teach 
her  little  ones  the  way  to  heaven,  and  to  ])ray  with 
them  that  they  might  enter  therein.  And  such 
teaching  I  such  prayers'  What  of  the  result?  We 
vcrilv  believe  those  children  all  jjave  their  hearts  to 
tlie  Savior,  either  early  in  childhood  or  in  youth. 
She  had  eleven  children;  two  died  hi  infancy.  The 
I'laaining  nine  all  reared  families,  and  a  large  pro^xa'- 

LiT.  Ind.    4 


00 


SPRINGS  AND  I.ITTI^R  imOOKS. 


i 


tion  of  tliom  are  pious.  IMay  a  gracious  God  liave 
mercy  upon  the  risiuu^  gouoration,  and  in  answer  to 
the  prayers  of  a  lon<j^  hue  of  pious  ancestry  save  their 
childriMi.  ^ly  mother  died  in  Granville,  Oiiio,  Jan- 
uary 'J'.),  1842,  in  her  seventy-first  year." 

It  seemed  to  mc  that  boys  in  Ohio  were  early  put 
to  work,  but  they  used  to  begin  earlier  in  ISIassachu- 
setts.  A  boy,  or  rather  baby  of  five,  could  ride  horse 
to  plow,  a  line  for  guiding  the  animal  bi'inu'then  used 
less  than  at  i>resent.  He  could  gather  suri'ace  stones 
into  little  heaps,  drop  corn,  and  pull  flax.  ])uring 
the  next  year  or  two,  in  his  linen  frock,  he  jierformed 
all  kinds  of  general  light  work;  among  the  rest  he 
would  walk  beside  the  ox  team  while  plowing.  Tlu; 
i'arm  on  M'hich  my  father  worked  at  this  tender  aije 
was  (juite  rough  and  stony,  and  before  the  plowing 
oxen  was  sometimes  hitched  a  gentle  horse  without 
a  l)i'idle,  guided,  like  the  oxen,  with  the  AvJii|).  My 
father  had  not  yet  reached  the  end  of  his  sixth 
year  when,  toward  the  close  of  a  long  hot  summer 
day,  during  which  he  had  trudged  manfully,  whip  in 
hand,  beside  these  cattle,  he  became  exceedingly  tired, 
and  the  silent  tears  began  to  fall.  Noticing  this 
the  lather  asked,  "What  is  the  matter,  my  child?" 
"Nothing,  sir,"  was  the  reply,  "only  I  think  this  is  a 
j)retty  big  team  for  so  small  a  boy  to  drive  all  day." 
'•  [  think  so  too,  my  son,  and  we  will  stop  now,"  said 
my  grandfather.  After  his  seventh  birthday  my 
father  was  withdrawn  from  school  during  summer, 
his  services  on  the  i'ai'm  being  too  valuable)  to  be 
s|)ared.  In  1809  my  grandl'ather  Bancroft  removed 
his  family  to  Pennsylvania,  where  Yankees  M'ere  then 
eyed  suspiciously  by  the  Dutch,  and  in  1814  he  emi- 
grated to  Ohio. 

My  mother  was  a  native  of  Vermont.  Sibyl 
JMielps  was  her  mother's  maiden  name,  and  the 
IMielps  family  nt  an  early  day  removed  from  the 
vicinity  of  St  Ah  ans  to  (Jhio.  My  mother's  parents 
were    both    originally    from     Massachusetts,    Sibyl 


MY  GRANDFATHER. 


61 


Plielps  leavinjir  Sprinijf field  about  tlic  time  Curtis 
Jlowo,  my  inother'.s  lather,  left  Granville,  the  two 
iiK'otiiijjj  lirst  at  Swaiiton,  Vermont,  in  1797,  their 
marriage  taking  place  the  following  year.  Curtis 
Howe  was  one  in  whom  were  united  singular  mild- 
ness of  <lisposition  and  singular  firmness  of  character, 
and  withal  as  lovahle  a  natui'e  as  ever  man  had.  He 
lived  to  the  age  of  ninety-eight,  a  venerable  patriarch, 
proud  of  his  numerous  descendants,  who  with  one 
accord  regarded  him  as  the  best  man  that  ever  lived. 
Like  a  she|)lierd  amidst  his  Hock,  with  Ids  white  hair, 
and  mild  beaming  eye,  and  quiet  loving  snnle;  with 
sweet  counsel  ever  falling  from  his  lips,  Sabbath  days 
and  other  days,  his  simple  presence  blessed  them.  In 
the  consciousness  of  duty  well  performed,  with  a  firm 
reliance  on  his  God,  a  faith  deep-rooted  in  his  bible, 
^s  Inch  though  the  mountains  were  u|)turned  could  not 
b(.'  shaken,  a  trust  that  the  sweet  Christ  on  whom  he 
leaned  would  guide  his  steps  and  smooth  his  path  daily 
and  hourly  so  long  as  life  should  last,  and  give  him 
liiial  rest,  the  good  man  brought  down  heaven  and 
made  the  world  to  him  a  paradise.  And  when  earthly 
lilals  thickened,  ho  lifted  his  soul  and  soared  amidst 
the  stars,  and  made  the  saints  and  angels  his  com- 
jjanions. 

All!  talk  not  to  me  of  living  then  and  now.  We 
jilunio  ourselves,  poor  fools,  and  say  that  more  of  life 
is  givt-n  us  in  the  short  space  we  run  it  through  than 
was  vouchsafed  our  ancestors  a  century  or  two  ago  in 
iiirice  the  time.  PutVed  up  by  our  mechanical  con- 
trivaiict;s  which  we  call  science,  our  ])arccl]ing-out  of 
taitli  and  ores  which  we  call  wealth,  our  libertinism 
wliicli  we  call  libertv;  castinuf  ourselves  adrii't  from 
'iiir  faith,  calling  in  question  the  wisdom  and  goodness 
nf  our  maker,  throwing  otf  all  law  but  the  law  of  lust, 
all  alhction  save  avarice  and  epicurism,  we  plunge 
iiiadloiig  into  some  pandemonium  or  cast  ourselves 
uiHJL'r  some  soul-crushing  juggernaut  of  progress,  and 


I 


62 


SPRINGS  AND  LITTLE  BROOKS. 


call  it  life,  and  boast  one  year  of  suoli  hurry-skurry 
existence  to  be  worth  ten,  ay,  a  hundred,  of  the  uld- 
timo  sort. 

Lacrynia3  Christ! !  Wliat,  tlien,  is  hfe?  To  swine, 
a  wallowing  in  the  mire;  to  the  money -.iJfottcr,  a 
wrangling  on  the  mart;  to  the  brainless  Ik'Hc.  a  l)('aii, 
dancing,  and  dissi})ation;  to  the  modern  young  man, 
billiards,  cigars,  and  champagne  cocktails — and  if  he 
stops  at  these  he  does  well.  To  the  woman  of  fashion 
life  is  a  war  on  wrinkles;  to  the  e|)icure,  it  is  frogs 
and  turtles;  to  the  roue,  women  and  last  horses;  to 
the  politician,  chicanery,  cheatings,  and  ovcrreachings; 
to  the  man  of  sciem-e,  evolution,  universal  law,  and  a 
dark  uncertain  future.  Away  with  aged  father  and 
tottering  mother  I  lience  witli  them,  colHn  them,  wall 
them  in,  send  their  souls  quick  to  lieaven  and  let  their 
names  be  canonized,  so  that  they  depart  and  give  their 
ambitious  children  room.  So  swiftly  do  the  actions  of 
modern  fast  livers  follow  their  swift  thoughts  that  the 
recording  angel  nmst  be  indeed  a  good  stenographer  to 
take  down  all  their  doings.  "  Think  of  the  crowning 
hours  of  men's  lives,"  exclauns  Thomas  Starr  King,  "  if 
you  would  learn  how  much  living  can  be  crowded  into 
a  minute;  of  Copernicus,  w'hen  he  first  saw  the  sun 
stop  in  its  career,  and  the  earth,  like  a  moth,  begin  to 
flutter  round  it;  of  Newton,  when  the  law  of  oravitv 
was  lirst  breaking  into  the  inclosure  of  his  philosophy, 
and  at  the  same  glance  he  saw  his  own  name  written 
forever  on  the  starry  sky;  of  Le  Vcrrier,  when  from 
Berlin  word  came  back  that  a  new"  planet  had  been 
evoked  by  the  sorcery  of  his  mathematics,  to  spin  a 
wider  thread  of  reflected  light  than  had  ever  before 
been  traced;  of  Washington,  when  the  English  gen- 
eral's sword  was  surrendered  to  him  at  Yorktown;  of 
Cohnnbus,  when  on  his  deck  '  before  the  upright  man 
there  arose  a  light,'  when  San  Salvador  lilted  its 
candle  to  his  sight  and  shot  its  rays  across  on  Castile; 
and  for  the  jeers  of  a  continent,  the  mutiny  of  his 
men,  he  was  repaid  as  he  saw  that  the  round  idea  that 


THK  PHILOSOPHY  OF  LIVING. 


08 


liauntcd  liim  was  doinoiistratod.  To  pictures  like 
tlicsc  wo  must  tui'ii  to  understand  tln^  untranslatal)le 
Miss  of  which  a  moment  is  capahle,  to  learn  what 
fast  livinix  really  is." 

To  few,  however,  is  given  the  happiness  of  thus 
]ian"in<jr  the  results  of  a  noble  life  on  a  point  of  time, 
hut  to  all  is  u-iven  the  privilci'-e  of  makinijf  som('\shat 
of  life.  Our  life  is  but  one  among  millions  of  lives, 
our  world  one  among  millions  of  worlds,  our  solar 
>vstein  one  among  millions  of  solar  systems.  "La 
lilu]>art  des  honnnes,"  says  La  Bruvere,  "  emj)loient 
la  pii'niiere  partie  de  leur  vie  a  rendre  I'autre  miser- 
altle."  Nevertheless  it  is  safe  to  say  that  every  man 
receives  from  the  world  more  than  he  gives.  These 
so-called  last  livers  do  not  live  at  all,  do  not  know 
what  life  is.  They  act  as  though  they  imagined  it  to 
be  a  gladiatorial  show,  in  which  each  was  called  to 
be  lUi  actor,  a  thief,  and  fierce  butcher  of  time,  when 
in  I'calit}^  they  arc  but  spectators,  the  creator  pro- 
Aiding  the  entertainment,  which  is  not  a  gladiatorial 
>how,  l)ut  a  pastoral  feast,  where  nature  herself  ])rc- 
>-ides  and  di^r:"'uutes  the  gifts.  Let  it  be  inscribed 
<in  the  toml'  Luno  of  him  whose  fastness  of  life  lies 
ill  money,  wine,  and  women: — Here  lies  one  to  whom 
riod  had  given  intellect  and  opportunity,  who  lived — 
nay  rotted — in  an  age  which  yielded  to  inquiry  the 
grandest  returns,  doubly  rewarding  the  clibrts  of 
mind  by  l»lessing  him  who  gave  and  him  who  re- 
<eived;  but  who  in  all  his  threescore  years  lived  not 
an  hour,  being  absorbed  all  that  time  in  hurried 
}>rcparations  to  live,  and  wh(^  died  lal)oring  under  the 
strange  delusion  that  he  had  lived  half  a  century  or 
more.  There  is  about  all  this  bustle  and  ])usiness  the 
-tilling  vapor  of  merchandise,  town  lots,  and  stocks, 
which,  as  one  says  truthfully,  "deoxygenates  the  air 
<if  its  fair  humanities  and  ethereal  spiritualities,  and 
the  more  one  breathes  of  it  the  less  one  lives."  What 
recompense  to  mummied  man  for  overheated  brain, 
withered   affections,  and   scoffing   distempers?     Can 


M 


SPRINGS  AND  LITTLE  BROOKS. 


wealth  atone,  or  even  kiiowledofc?  Vain  simpleton  1 
get  money  it'  you  will,  and  with  it  buy  desolation, 
heart- weariness;  with  fame  buy  shipwrecked  faith 
and  blastinj,^  winds,  which,  sweepinij  over  thci  gardens 
of  the  soul  once  joyous  in  their  fresh  bloom,  leave 
behind  a  withered  desert.  Wealth,  fame,  and  knowl- 
edge, and  these  alone,  bring  iieitlier  taitli,  hope,  nor 
sweet  charity. 

Life  is  out  the  glass  upon  the  quicksilver  which 
mirrors  thought.  xVs  has  been  fitly  said,  one  may 
see  in  the  filtliy  stagnant  pool  tlie  eifulgent  clouds 
rollinu'  in  an  wbyss  of  blue,  or  one  may  sec — only 
a  filthy  j)ool.  We  may  fix  our  eyes  forever  on  the 
figures  of  our  ledger,  our  minds  on  sordid  dust,  and 
hug  to  our  selfish  souls  a  consuming  fire;  or  we  may 
lift  our  eyes  and  look  God  in  the  face,  take  him  Iw 
the  hand,  walk  with  him,  and  talk  with  him  of  his 
wonderfcd  works,  and  begin  our  eternity  of  heaven 
by  makin»jf  a  heaven  of  our  hearts  and  fillinix  them 
with  the  inspirations  of  beauty  and  contentment. 
Such  was  the  life  of  my  grandfatlier;  and,  say  I,  give 
me  out  of  this  old  man's  ninety-eight  years  one  po<n* 
day,  the  j^oorest  of  them  all,  and  I  will  show  you 
more  of  life  than  the  modern  Dives  can  find  bv 
dilisjrcnt  search  in 


lety 


y 


From  a  family  sketch  written  l)y  Curtis  Howe  in 
1857  I  quote  as  follows:  "  ^ly  grandfather,  Jolin 
Howe,  was  l>orn  in  London  in  the  year  fdoO,  and 
remained  tliere  through  lii ,  juvenile  years.  Xothing 
is  known  of  his  parents,  antl  ve^ry  little  of  him,  only 
that  some  time  after  he  became  a  )nan  he  came  t'> 
this  countiy  with  a  brother  wiiose  name  is  n<»t 
known.  He  purchased  a  farm  in  Xew  Haven,  Con- 
necticut, ac(|uire(l  a  handsome  property,  an<l  mariied 
at  the  age  of  sixty  a  giil  of  nineteen.  ]\[y  father, 
E}>hraim  Howe,  was  their  youngest,  born  in  April, 
1730,  his  father  being  at  that  time  eighty  years 
old.    December  '2,  l7r>G,  my  father  married  ]Jamaris 


QUALIFIKD  FAITH. 


5S 


Sr.iwai'd,  ho  IhAu'j;  tAventv-seven  and  slio  seventeen. 
AcconlinL,^  to  the  I'aniily  record  I  was  l)orn  May  10, 
177'-':  I  remained  very  suiall  and  ,L,^rew  but  httle  until 
f  arrived  at  my  teens,  and  reachinij^  ni}^  full  size,  I 
su])|)ose,  only  when  nearly  twenty-one." 

'riiiiius  clianL^ed  as  time  went  on;  the  world  l)iistle(l 
lurward  and  left  my  Lri'andlather  behind.  His  children 
to  tlic  third  and  i'ourth  generations  became  scattered 
i'rom  the  Atlantic  to  the  Pacific,  and  as  he  advanced 
ill  years  tliere  was  a  growing'  dttsire  in  him  to  see 
tlh-m  all  and  leave  with  them  Iiis  blessin*''  ere  he  tiled, 
^[any  of  them  he  did  see,  making  long  journeys  m 
ills  wagon  rather  than  trust  himself  to  a  railway. 
(^)uet'r  caution  this,  it  always  seemed  to  me.  The 
good  patriarch  could  trust  his  God  im[)licitly  in  most 
matters;  indee<l  he  was  confident  of  his  al)ility  to 
protect  him  e\'ei'y\vhere  except  on  steam-cars  and 
steam-boats.  He  could  go  to  him  in  trouble,  he 
coiiM  leave  his  cares  with  him,  knowing  that  what- 
ever was  meteil  out  to  him  was  riglit  and  best;  but  he 
was  a  httle  doubtful  about  the  newfangled,  rattling, 
screeching,  bellowing  method  of  travelling,  ami  he 
prefeired  the  old  and  sure  way,  horses  and  wagons, 
such  as  jiad  brought  him  and  his  household  safely 
fVoiii  St  Albans  to  (rranville  and  such  as  he  had  ever 
since  em])loyed.  The  spirit  of  steam  had  not  yet 
fallen  oil  him.  Xevertheless,  so  great  was  tlie  desiri' 
to  see  his  children  in  California,  that  Ik.'  finally  sum- 
moned courage  or  faith  suflicient  U)  bi;ave  botli  i-ail- 
N\ay  and  sleam-shi[),  making  tiie  fatiguing,  and  for 
him  dangerous  ])assage  by  the  Isthnuis  at  the  advanced 
age  of  ninety-four. 

iu'oni  family  I'econls  I  have  ascertained  tint  a 
grandmother  of  my  father  and  a  grandmother  of  my 
motlier  were  I>orn  in  the  saim;  town  the  same  year; 
botJi  died  t!u3  same  year  at  the  advanced  age  of 
ninety-six.  My  grandfatheis  IJancroftand  Howe  were 
both  born  in  (Ji'anville,  Massachusetts;  the  former 
died  in  Ohio,  the  latter  in  Kansas. 


i! 


'i; 


66 


SPRIXOS  AND  LITTLK  r.ROOKS. 


Botli  of  my  parunts  were  boiii  in  tlio  year  1799. 
I  was  liorn  in  Granville,  (3hio,  on  the  tilth  day  of 
May,  1832,  just  two  centuries  after  the  ari-ival  of  my 
ancH'stor  John  in  America.  The  town  of  (Granville 
was  settled  l>v  a  colony  from  Xew  ]Ont»'land,  and  took 
its  name  from  Granville,  Massachusetts,  whence  many 
of  its  settlers  came.  It  was  in  1805  that  a  company 
was  formed  in  Granville,  Massachusetts,  to  emigrate 
to  tht!  far  west,  and  two  of  IIk,'  number  went  to  searcli 
the  wilderness  for  a  suitable  location.  They  selected 
a  heavily  timbered  township  in  Ohio,  in  the  county 
of  Licking,  so  called  i'rom  tlu;  deer-licks  found  there. 
'J'hey  secui'ed  from  tlie  ])ro]»rietors,  Stanbury  and 
liatbburn,  this  tract,  and  it  ai'terwanl  took  the  name 
of  Granville,  as  before  mentioned,  I'rom  their  old 
lionic.  The  year  following  the  colony  was  organized, 
not  as  a  joint-stock  (X)nn)any,  but  as  a  congregational 
church.  At  starting  a  sermon  was  preached  from 
the  text:  "If  thy  ])rescnce  go  not  with  me,  carry 
us  not  up  hence."  Then,  after  baking  much  bread, 
a  portion  of  which  was  dried  to  rusk  and  coarsely 
ground  at  the  flouring  mill,  the  cattle  were  hitched 
to  the  wagons,  and  driving  their  cows  before  them 
they  moved  off  in  the  direction  of  the  star  of  empire. 
It  was  quite  a  ditfercMit  thing,  this  New  England 
colony,  IVom  an  ordinary  western  settlement.  Thouirh 
eminently  practical,  it  ])artook  rather  of  the  subjective 
and  I'atiouid  element  than  of  the  objective  and  ma- 
terial. Though  unlike  their  forefatlii'i's  fleeing  from 
j>crse('U(ion  — only  I'or  more  and  bettcn-  land  than  they 
could  find  at  homo  would  they  go — tiiey  nevertheless, 
with  their  houst'holils,  ti'ans])lanted  their  opinions  and 
their  traditions,  without  abating  one  jot  or  tittle  of 
cithtn*.  Willi  their  ox  teams  and  horse  teams,  with 
all  thcii- belongings  in  covered  wagons,  these  colonists 
came,  bearing  in  their  bosoms  their  love  of  God,  their 
coui'Mgeous  I'aith,  their  stern  morality,  their  delight  in 
sacrilice;  talking  of  these  things  l»y  the  way,  camping 
by  the  road  side  at  night,  resting  on  the  Sal)bath  when 


THK  LATKR  MIORATIOX. 


57 


all  the  ivliuflous  ordinances  of  the  dav  wore  strictly 
(il)sri'vcd,  ct^nsuminn"  in  the  journey  as  nianv  days  as 
it  now  occu[)ies  halt-hours,  and  all  with  thanksgiving, 
player,  and  praise. 

Quite  a  contrast,  this  sort   of  swai-niing,  to  that 


MJiii 


h    characterized    the    exodus   to    ('aliftirnia    1 


ess 


than  half  a  century  later   'vherein  gri'(>d  usurjx'd  the 
]ilace  of  godliness,  and  lust  tlu!  ]»lace  of  lovi-.    The  na- 


tion  had  jtrogressed,  it  was 
d.l 


said. 


since 


Ol 


no  was 


tl 


le 


I'mntier — ci-ahhke  in  some  respects,  surely;  lU'Vertlie- 
Ir-ss  there  was  more  of  'life'  in  it,  that  is  to  sav  ehulli- 


tjoii.  fermentation,  ca 


lie.  I 


lie,  as  I  train 


less  1 


)ovsan(l  men 


doomed  to  perdition  call  their  fopperies,  harlotings, 
,iiid  drunken  revelries  life.  There  had  been  a  gran<l 
hroadening  since  then;  Yankeedom  now  stretched,  if 
Hot  I'rom  ]»ole  to  |»olo,  at  least  from  ocean  to  ocean, 
;md  scarcely  had  tlu^  guns  c(>ased  braying  that  added 
to  i.ur  domain  the  whole  of  Alta,  California  when  the 
'u\k  of  gold  was  heard  upon  our  western  seaboard, 
nd  thither  ilocked  adventurers  of  everv  caste,  «>ood 
I  bad,  learned  and  unlearned,  nu'rcantik',  nieehan- 
l  nondescrii)t.     The  sons  of  the  imritans,  in 


i-ii 


ieal 


and 


(•oimnon  M'ith  all  the  world,  rose  and  hastily  dt'j)artcd 
their  piliJ'rimaLre   to  this  new  shrine   of  IMiitus. 


oil 


Kagi-rly  they  skirted  the  continent,  double<l  Capo 
Iforn,  crossed  the  Isthmus,  or  traversed  the  ])lains, 
in  order  to  reach  the  other  sidt\      The'   old  covered 


wagon   W{ 


IS    a<>ain    brou''ht   out,   ilu>  oxen    and   tl 


ic 


]iorses;  wives  [Uid  little  ones  were  lel't  behind,  and  so, 
lias!  too  often  were  conscience,  and  honesty,  and  hu- 
manity. Not  as  their  I'orefat  hers  had  journeyed  did 
these  latter-day  nu'ii  of  ])rogress  migrate.  Sacrifice, 
tlieiL'  was  enough  ol'  it,  but  of  (juite  a  dillerent  kind. 
<  oinfort,  society  with  its  wholesome  restraints,  and 
S.il.hath  W(Mi'  sacrificed;  the  bible,  the  teachings  of 
'heir  youth,  and  the  Christ  himself,  were  sacriliced. 
'  'at lis  and  blasphemy  instead  of  ])raise  and  tlianks- 
-iviiig  were  heard;  drunken  rexelry  and  gambling  took 


08 


SPRINGS  AND  LITTLK  BROOKS. 


the  place  of  psalms  and  sermons.  Playing-cards  were 
the  gold-seeker's  testament,  rum  the  spirit  of  his  con- 
templations, and  luci'e  his  one  and  iinal  love.  The 
ritle  and  the  howio-knifo  cleared  his  })atli  of  beasts 
and  native.'  nun  and  women,  and  the  unfortunate 
'  greasers,'  hy  which  opprobrious  epithet  the  Anglo- 
Saxon  there  greeted  liis  brethren  of  the  Latin  ^race, 
fared  but  little  better.  Here  was  a  new  departure 
in  ("olonizing;  nor  yet  a  colonizing — only  a  huddling 
of  humanit\',  drunic  ironi  excess  of  avarice. 


It  was  late  in  the  week  that  the  New  Eno-land 
emiiri-ants  to  Ohio  reached  their  destination  and 
cam})ed  on  a  pictui'esepu,"  bench,  the  rolling  forested 
hills  on  one  side,  and  on  the  otlier  a  strip  of  timbered 
bottom,  througli  which  ilowed  a  clear  quiet  stream. 
Arraui'int'"  their  wan'ons  in  the  way  best  suited  for 
convenience  and  defence,  thi'V  felletl  a  few  of  the  largt^ 
ma])le  and  otlier  trees  and  began  to  pre|)are  material 
for  buildiuL"'.  Then  came  the  warm  Sabbath  mornimi'. 
when  no  sound  of  the  axe  was  heai'd,  and  even  nature 
softened  her  shrill  music  ami  l)reathed  low  as  arose  to 
heaven  the  voice 


V 


[)!•; 


giving,  nevermore  to  lie  new  or  strange  among  these 
consecrated  hills.  A  sermon  was  read  on  that  tii'sl 
Granville  Sabbath,  and  never  i'rom  that  day  to  this 
lias  tlie  peaceful  little  spot  been  without  its  Sabbath 


and  its  serm 


on. 


a 


ouses  were 


quickly 


erec 


teil, 


and 


a    I'hurcli,  Timothy   Harris    bi>ing    tin;    first    ])ast()i-. 
Schools  quickly  ibllowe(l;  and  all  thus  far  being  from 


1 


one  vilace,  anc 


I  of 


one  failh,  and  one  moralitv,  no  time 


was  lost  in  sage  discussions,  so  that  (jJranvillc  grew 
in  solid  comforts  and  intelligence,  outstripping  th<> 
neigliboring  eonununities,  and  ere  long  sending  forth 
hundreds  of  young  men  ;nid  w<»men  to  educate  others. 
'I'he  l*he][ts  family  was  among  tin;  earliest  to  leavo 
Vermont  for  the  Ohio  (iranville,  thus  established  by 
the  Massachusetts  men.  Then  came  the  JJanci'ofts 
from  I'ennsylvania  and  the   Hcnve  family  from  Ver- 


OLD-TIME  MATING. 


00 


niont.  Amonigr  the  first  acts  of  the  colonists  was  to 
mark  out  a  village  and  divide  the  surrounding  lands 
into  hundred-acre  farms.  Now  it  so  happened  that 
tlic  farms  of  Azariah  Banci-offc  and  Curtis  Mtnve 
n<lj()ined.  Tiofh  of  these  settlers  were  blessed  with 
immerous  children;  mv  father  was  one  of  eleven,  four 
hoys  and  live  givls  reaching  maturity.  It  was  not 
the  custom  in  that  slow  age  for  parents  to  shirk  their 
responsibility.  Luxury,  j)leasure,  ease,  liad  not  yet 
usurped  tlie  place  of  children  in  the  motlier's  breast; 
;md  as  for  strength  to  l>ear  tliem,  it  was  deemed  dis- 
giaceful  in  a  woman  to  be  weak  who  could  not  sliow 
just  cause  for  her  infirmity.  As  I  have  said  before, 
work  was  the  order  of  the  day — work,  by  which  means 
alone  men  can  bo  men,  or  women  women;  by  which 
moans  alone  there  can  be  culture,  development,  or  a 
human  species  fit  to  live  on  this  earth.  Men  and 
women,  and  boys  and  girls,  all  worked  in  those  days, 
worked  physically,  mentally,  and  morally,  and  so 
strengthened  hand,  and  iiead,  and  heart.  Thus  work- 
iuLi' in  the  kitchen  fiel<l  and  liaj-n-yard,  making  hay  and 
milking  cows,  reaping,  thresliing,  s|>inning,  weaving, 
Ashley  Bancroft  and  Lucy  Howe  grew  up,  the  one  a 
lusty,  sinewy,  dark-eyed  youth,  the  other  a  bright 
merry  maiden,  with  golden  hair,  and  the  sweetest 
smile  a  girl  ever  had,  and  the  softest,  purest  eyes  that 
e\er  let  sunlight  into  a  soul.  I'hose  eyes  [ilayed  the 
mischief  with  the  vt)Utii.  Slv  u'lanc.'es  were  u'iven  and 
returned;  at  spelling-school,  singing-school,  chestnut- 
ting,  and  sleighing,  whenever  they  t'licountered  one 
another  the  heart  of  either  beat  tlu^  faster.  Ami  in 
the  lull  course  of  time  they  were  man  ied,  and  had 
a  hundred-acre  farm  of  their  own;  had  calUe,  and 
hani,  and  I'arm  im[)lenients,  and  in  time  a  substantial 
two-story  stone  house,with  a  bright  tin  roof;  and  soon 
there  were  six  children  in  it,  of  whom  I  was  the 
l"urth;  and  had  all  these  comforts  paid  l"or — for  these 
llnifty  workers  hated  debt  as  they  hated  the  devil — 
;ill   paid    for  save  the  children,  for  which   debt  the 


CO 


SPllINGS  AND  LITTLE  BROOKS. 


])arf!nts  coasod  not  to  make  ackiiowlcdjjjinoiits   to  al- 
ii li^lity  (jrod  niorniiiijf  and  evening  to  the  end. 

Writiiii;'  in  liis  journal  at  tlio  age  of  eiglitv-threc, 
jnst  ai'ter  tlu;  death  of  my  motlier,  in  1882,  my  father 
tells  the  storv  thus:  "Well,  a  lonu"  time  ago  a  little 
.stanunering  boy" — my  father  liad  a  slight  impediment 
in  his  speech — "turned  up  from  the  rocks  and  hills 
of  ]\rassachusetts,  who  might  eventually  want  a  wife; 
and  Infinite  Benevolence  took  the  case  into  His  own 
hands,  nnd  being  al)le  to  see  the  end  from  the  begin- 
ning, by  way  of  compensation,  perhaps,  for  the  griev- 
ous atlliction  entailed  upon  him.  He  was  graciously 
inclined  to  bestow  u|)on  him  one  of  the  very  best 
young  women  in  His  keeping,  and  in  accordance  with 
Jlis  ])lan  he  caused  the  damsels  of  His  miglity  realm 
to  pass  before  Him,  and  strange  to  relate,  near  the 
(jlreen  ^Mountains  of  A'ermont  one  was  found  with 
whom  He  was  perfectly  accpiainted,  and  whom  He 
knew  would  be  the  right  person  to  fill  the  place.  Now 
the  pitrties  were  far  removed  from  each  other,  and  still 
farther  removed  from  the  scene  of  their  future  desti- 
nation. And  as  the  time  drew  nigh  when  these  young 
])ers()ns  were  to  be  brought  together,  discipline  and 
counsel  were  preparing  them;  for  good  parents  had 
been  given  by  the  great  ]\[oving  Power,  who  could 
clearly  see  that  they  would  rear  a  family  of  children 
that  they  would  jiot  be  ashamed  of.  And  now,  in 
accordance  with  the  great  plan,  I  was  sent  out  to 
Ohio  a  few  yeai's  in  advance  of  my  mate;  and  four 
years  later  thei'c  was  a  movement  in  a  family  in 
X'ermont,  who  bade  farewell  to  friends  and  started 
for  the  west.  TJie  second  day  after  their  an-ival  1 
was  walking  i'roin  father's  toward  town,  when  I  met 
two  ])ersons,  one  of  M'hom  Avas  my  sister  Matildn 
and  the  other  ACiss  Lucy  i).  Howe.  My  sister  lightly 
introduce<l  us,  and  we  all  passed  on,  but  not  until  I 
had  seiMi  a  great  deal:  my  eyes  were  fixed  upon  thi- 
iiewol)ject;  and  I  could  not  tell  why,  nothing  escape! 
me,  not  even  her  dress,  which  I  should  think  was  o* 


THE  ADVOCATE. 


61 


senilt't  alpaca,  and  well  fitted.  I  do  not  know  exactly 
liov*'  it  was,  whether  the  dress  became  the  person, 
or  the  ])erson  the  dress,  but  takini,^  them  together  I 
tliouirht  them  the  finest  affair  I  Jiad  ever  seen." 

Tlicy  were  then  in  their  sixteenth  year,  and  seven 
years  were  yet  to  ela[»se  belbre  their  nmrriaijie.  ^[y 
t';illier  was  what  ])eople  in  those  days  called  a  i^ood 
hoy.  that  is  he  was  scarc(>ly  a  boy  at  all — sober,  sedate, 
jiioiis,  havin^^  in  him  little  lim  or  frolic,  though  ])os- 
sessinjjf  somewhat  of  a  temper,  l)ut  for  which  his  lather 
would  have  pronoui  !('('<  I  liim  tJiebest  l)oy  that  ever  lived. 
The  inHnaculate  youth  had  not  y(,'t  won  his  bi'ide,  who 
was  as  clear-headed  and  sinnle-lieai'ted  as  he,  and  joy- 
ous as  a  sunbeam  withal.  What  could  he  do,  extremely 
siiisitive  and  bashful  as  he  was;  how  could  ho  brini*" 
liis  faulty  tongue  to  speak  the  momentous  words? 
There  was  away  in  old-time  wooings  not  praclisetl  so 
much  of  late.  Listen.  '' l*0(jr  Ashley!"  continues 
my  father,  "he  was  indeed  smitten,  though  he  could 
not  make  a  move.  J^ut  he  had  one  resource,  llo 
knew  the  way  to  a  throne  of  gi'ace,  and  his  prayer 
for  months  was  that  God  would  give  him  a  companion 
that  should  prove  a  rich  and  lasting  blessing  to  him. 
And  how  wonderfully  that  prayer  has  been  answered. 
?\liss  Ilowe  when  she  started  out  from  her  home  that 
morninij  did  not  know  slie  was  <>"oin<>'  forth  to  meet 
liim  who  had  been  a))pointed  to  be  her  comjianion 
(lurin<jr  a  inlufrimaije  of  sixty  vcars."  I'hev  joined  the 
s.'.me  church  at  the  same  time,  after  which,  like  her 
iatlier  before  her,  my  mother  taught  school,  some- 
times at  Granville  and  sometimes  at  Irville.  It  was 
on  one  of  these  occasions,  when  she  was  absent,  tint 
iiiv  father  sununoned  courage  to  write  her  a  proposal, 
which  after  much  delay  resulted  in  the  bright  con- 
smnmation  of  his  hopes.  But  belbi-e  marriage  my 
mother  assisted  lier  father  from  her  own  earnings  in 
huilding  his  farm-house,  and  by  further  teaching  and 
making  l)onnets  of  straw  she  accunudated  enough  for 
licr  weddinix  outfit.    A  few  months  alter  their  mairiage 


62 


SPRINGS  A\D  LITTLE  BROOKS. 


tlicy  removed  to  Newark,  Ohio,  wliorc  my  father  had 
talvon  a  contract  to  build  a  laru^e  brick  residence  for 
William  Staiibuiy.  This  work  occupied  him  two 
years,  and  when  completed  was  the  finest  residence 
in  IjickinLf  county.  In  part  ])ayment  he  took  the 
(Iranville  farm,  the  childhood  home  of  his  sons  and 
dau'^hters.  He  also  built  locks  for  the  Ohio  canal, 
under  contract.  "  ])urin<j:  the  year  1840,"  writes  mv 
father,  "while  travellinu^  south  on  business,  I  encoun- 
tered a  line  rich  farming  country  in  Missouri,  and  in 
the  followini:^  year  removed  my  family  thither,  in 
coni])any  with  some  of  my  Granville  neighbors;  but 
after  a  sojourn  of  about  three  years  we  were  di'iven 
back  by  the  unwholesomeness  of  the  climate.  In  1850 
I  joined  a  company  from  Licking  county  bound  for 
California.  We  went  out  by  steamer  to  Chagres, 
and  from  l*anam:l  b}'  sailing  vessel.  Accidents  and 
delays  so  retarded  our  progress  that  our  voyage 
occu])ied  over  six  months.  1  returned  to  Ohio  in 
ISaii.  In  18(51  I  received  an  appointnierrt  from  (jIov- 
ernment  as  Indian  Agent  for  the  Yakiin:i  nation, 
at  Fort  Simcoe,  where  I  remained  for  nearly  four 
years.  I  returned  to  San  Francisco  in  NovembiM-, 
18G  t,  and  since  then  have  lived  quietly  and  happily 
among  my  children  and  my  ehildren's  cliildren." 

]\ry  parents  were  married  in  (h'anvilK',  Ohio,  on 
the  'Jlst  of  February,  182'2,  the  lleveren<l  Ahab 
Jenks  oiUeiating-  the  lilst  of  Fel)ru;irv,  lS7iI,  at  my 
house  in  San  Francisco,  tlicy  celebrated  their  golden 
wedding,  ])rol)abIv  the  most  jo\'ous  event  oi"  their 
long  and  hap}»y  lives.  Two  of  my  iather's  bi'others 
have  likewise  celebrated  their  golden  weddings,  one 
before  tliis  and  one  afterward.  While  I  am  now 
writing,  my  father  of  eighty -five  is  talking  with  my 
cliihhi'ii,  J*aul,  (iritliiig,  J*hilip,  and  J-^my,  aged  six, 
four,  two,  and  one,  res|)ectively,  telling  them  of  things 
happening  when  he  was  a  boy,  which,  were  it  possil)le 
for  them  to  remember  and  tell  at  the  age  of  eighty- 
Hve  to  their   grandchildren,  would  be  indeed  a  col- 


li 


i 


MEKTINfiS  AND  IIF-FOIIMATIOXS. 


68 


lilting  of  the  family  book  of  lifo  almost  in  ecntury- 
]);i'^c.s.  Living  is  not  always  bottor  than  dying;  but 
to  my  boys  I  would  say,  if  they  desire  to  live  long  in 
this  woild  they  must  work  and  be  temperate  in  all 

things. 

Thus  it  liappenod  that  I  was  born  into  an  atmos- 
jtluTe  of  pungent  and  invigorating  [)uritanism,  such  as 
ilills  to  the  lot  of  few  in  these  days  of  material  pro- 
gress and  transcendental  speculation.  This  atmos- 
pliere,  however,  was  not  witliout  its  foos.  IManted  in 
this  western  Xew  Enii'land  oasis,  side  bv  sitle  with  the 
|ii(.;ty  and  principles  of  the  old  Plymouth  colony,  and 
indeed  one  with  them,  were  all  the  ant  is  and  isms 
that  ever  confounded  Satan — Calvinism,  Lutheran- 
ism,  Knoxism,  and  liussism,  ])ure  and  adulterated; 
al»(»litionism,  whilom  accounted  a  disgi-ace,  later  the 
nation's  proudest  honor;  anti-rum,  anti-tobacco,  anti 
lea  and  coffee,  anti  sugar  and  cotton  if  the  enslaved 
Mack  man  grew  them,  and  anti  liddles  and  cushions 
and  carpets  in  the  churches,  anti-sensualism  of  every 
Uiid,  and  even  comforts  if  they  bordered  on  luxury. 
Tims  the  fanatically  good,  in  tlieii"  vehement  attemj)ts 
at  reiorm,  may  ])ercliance  move  some  atom  of  the  ])i'o- 
yressional  world  which  of  inherent  necessity,  if  left 
aldiic,  would  move  without  theii-  aid  or  in  spite  of 
theiu.  Multitudinous  meetings  and  relbrms,  high- 
jiressure  and  iow-})ressure,  were  going  on,  whether 
wise  or  unwise,  whether  ther-e  was  anvthinu'  to  meet 
i'urorto  reform,  or  not.  As  my  mother  used  to  !>ay, 
■■  to  be  good  and  to  do  good  shotdil  constitute  the  aim 
and  end  of  every  life."  Children  pai'ticularly  sliould 
I)e  ii'formed,  and  that  right  early;  and  so  .Saturday 
night  was  '  ke})t,'  preparatory  to  the  Sabbath,  on 
wliich  day  three  'meetings'  were  always  held,  besides 
a  Sunday-school  and  a  prayei'-meeting,  the  intervals 
iHiiii;-  filled  witli  Saturday -cooked  repasts,  catechism, 
and  Simdav  readings. 

Pieparations  were  made  for  the  Sabbath  as  for  a 


04 


SPKIXfiS  AND  LITTLE  BROOKS. 


soltjinn  ovntioii.  The  tjnnlon  was  ]>ut  i?i  order,  and 
the  slu^ep  and  kino  wt'i'c  di'lvni  it)  tlieir  quiet  quarti'i's. 
TJie  Jiouso  was  scruhUed,  and  in  the  winter  fuel  ]»i'c- 
j)ared  the  day  belore.  All  picture-hooks  and  scrajis 
oi'  secular  reading  which  nii^'ht  catch  the  eye  and 
oHeiid  the  imagination  wi'ri'  tlu'ust  into  a  closet,  and 
on  the  tahle  in  their  stead  wert;  ])laced  the  l)iM<\ 
J\I<'innirs  (if  Pi'i/soi),  and  /fii.ifcrs  Sdiifs  Jicst.  'i'he 
uiorninL;'  of  the  lioly  day  crept  silently  in;  even  na+ure 
seemed  suiulued.  The  hirtis  sani;  softer;  the  inmates 
of  the  farm-yard  |)ut  on  their  best  hehavior;  only  the 
bra/en-faced  sun  dared  show  itself  in  its  accustomed 
chai'acter.  J'rayers  and  breakfast  over,  cleanly 
frocked,  through  still  streets  an<l  ])ast  closed  doors 
each  member  of  the  h<»usehol(l  wallced  with  down- 
cast eyes  to  chuicli.  Listen  and  heetl.  S[)eak  no 
evil  of  the  godly  man,  nor  criticise  his  words. 

Not  only  is  religion,  or  the  necessity  of  worship, 
as  much  a  ])art  of  us  as  body,  mind,  or  soul,  but 
ingrafted  superstition  of  some  sort  so  fastens  itself  on 
our  natur-e  that  the  philosophy  of  tlu^  most  ske[ttic;d 
cannot  wholly  ei'a<licate  it. 

Often  l)a\e  I  heard  latter-day  progressive  fathers 
say:  "For  myself,  I  care  not  for  dogmas  and  creeds, 
but  something  of  the  kind  is  necessary  for  women  and 
children:  society  else  wtnild  fall  in  pieces."  Without 
subscribing  to  such  a  senUment,  1  may  say  that  J 
thank  (xod  for  the  safe  survival  of  strict  religion^ 
training;  and  I  thank  him  most  of  all  for  emaucipa- 
tioa  frt)ui  it.  It  may  be  gc^od  to  be  born  in  a  hotbed 
of  revei-ential  sectarianism  ;  it  is  surely  better,  at  souu 
later  time,  to  escape  it. 

Excess  of  any  kind  is  sure,  sooner  or  later,  to  de- 
feat its  own  ends.  Take,  for*  instance,  the  meetings 
inflicted  on  the  society  into  which  destiny  had  pro- 
jected me.  There  wore  pulpit  meetings,  conference 
meetings,  missionary  meetings,  temperance  meetings, 
ujothers'  meetings,  young  men's  meetings,  Sunday- 
school  meetings,  inquiry  meetings,  moral-reform  meet- 


BELIEF  AND  ITS  DESTINY. 


iiii^s,  ministers'  mootint^s,  sunrise  and  sunset  meetings, 
anti-slavery  meetings — these  for  the  ordinary  minis- 
trations, witli  extra  inn)romptu  meetings  on  special 
(Kcasions,  and  all  intermingled  with  frequent  and 
fervid  revivals.  The  consequence  was  that  the  young 
men  of  Orauvillc  were  noted  in  all  that  region  for 
their  wickedness.  Home  influence  and  the  quiet  but 
ellectual  teachings  of  example  were  overshadowed  by 
the  public  and  more  active  poundings  of  piety  into  the 
young.  The  tender  plant  was  so  watered,  and  digged 
about,  and  fertilized,  that  natural  and  healthy  growth 
was  inij)eded.  A  distaste  for  theological  discourse 
was  earlv  formed,  arisinsj:,  not  from  a  distaste  for  ri;- 
li^ion,  nor  from  special  inherent  badness,  but  from  the 
endless  unwholesome  restraints  thrown  upon  youth- 
j'nl  unfoldings,  which  led  in  many  instances  to  the 
saddest  results.  "  Born  in  sin!"  was  the  cry  that  first 
fell  on  infant  ears,  and  "brought  forth  in  iniquity!" 
tlic  refrain.  This  beautiful  world  that  thou  seest  is 
given  thee,  not  to  enjoy  with  thankful  adoration,  but 
as  a  snare  of  Satan.  Do  penance,  therefore,  for  sins 
whicli  thou  wilt  be  sure  to  connnit  if  thou  livest.  Let 
thy  mind  dwell  little  upon  the  things  thou  canst  see 
and  understand,  and  much  U[)on  what  is  beyond  the 
sky,  of  which  thou  canst  know  nothing.  By  prayer 
and  })ropitiation  peradventure  thou  mayest  induce  om- 
nipotence to  avert  from  thine  innocent  head  some  of 
its  premeditated  wrath  ;  or,  if  there  nmst  be  a  dis- 
play of  the  creator  s  power  let  it  fall  on  our  neighbors 
and  not  on  us.  So  the  heaven  that  my  kind  heavenly 
father  throws  round  my  earthly  habitation  is  turned 
into  furnace-fires  to  melt  the  metal  of  self-abnegation 
into  coins  with  which  to  buy  the  heaven  hereafter. 

What  then  shall  be  the  coming  religion?  The 
l)rophet  has  not  yet  arisen  to  proclaim  it.  Whatever 
else  its  quality,  sure  I  am  it  will  not  be  a  religion  of 
creeds,  dogmas,  or  traditions.  We  have  had  enough 
of  the  teachings  of  twilight  civilization,  of  being  told 
by  the  ignorant  and  superstitious  of  by- gone  centuries 

Lit.  Imd.    6 


60 


SPRINGS  AND  LITTLE  BROOKS. 


what  we  imist  beliovo,  by  those  whose  occupuUon  and 
interest  it  is  to  instil  ijjfnorance  and  hcA'oiX  the  intei- 
loots  of  men.  Whatever  else  it  may  eontain,  tlie  new 
rt;li^ion  will  be  founded  on  reality  and  eonimon-sense. 
It  will,  ilrst  of  all,  diseard  sueh  parts  of  every  religion 
as  are  unable  to  bear  tiie  test  of  reason,  and  aecept 
such  parts  of  every  religion  as  are  plain,  palpable 
truths.  It  will  look  within  and  without;  it  will  search 
for  knowledijfe  to  the  uttermost,  not  i«;norin<j:  inten- 
tions  and  spiiitual  aspirations,  but  vain  speculation 
it  will  leave  to  the  winds. 

It  is  not  to  be  wondered  at  that,  after  such  an  ex- 
cess of  piety  and  exalted  cont(.inplation,  to  the  young 
clastic  mind  an  interview  with  the  devil  was  most  rc- 
iVi^shing;  and  as  the.se  boys  were  taught  that  in  to- 
bacco, small-beer,  and  the  painted  cards  that  players 
used,  he  lurked,  there  the  pious  urchins  sought  him. 
(yjubs  were  foi-med — rough  littU;  knots,  for  polished 
wirki'dne.ss  had  as  yet  no  charm  for  them — and  meet- 
ings held  lor  the  purpose  of  iUHpiiring  proficiency 
in  these  accomplishments.  Often  after  leaving  our 
'iiujuiiy'  meeting — that  is  to  say,  a  place  where  young 
folks  met  ostensibly  for  the  jnirpose  of  inquiring 
what  they  should  do  to  be  sa\'ed — have  I  gone  home 
and  to  bed;  then  later,  up  and  dressed,  in  company 
with  my  comrades  I  would  resort  to  a  cellar,  garret, 
or  barn,  with  tallow  candle,  cent  cigars,  and  a  pack  of 
well-woi-n  gieasy  playing-cards,  and  there  hold  sweet 
comnmnion  with  infernal  powers;  in  consequence  of 
which  enthusiasm  one  bai-n  was  burned  and  several 
others  narrowly  escaped  burning.  Strange  to  say, 
later  in  life,  as  soon  as  I  learned  how  playing-cards 
were  made,  and  that  no  satanic  influences  were  em- 
ployed in  their  construction  or  use,  they  ceased  to 
have  any  fascination  for  mo. 

The  spirit  of  mischief  broke  out  in  various  ways, 
such  as  unhinging  gates  and  hiding  them  in  the  grass, 
rousing  the  inmates  of  a  house  at  the  dead  of  night 
on  some  frivolous  pretext;    sometimes  choice  fruits 


TENDENCY  OF  EXCESS.  6T 

would  be  missing,  and  a  farmer  would  find  his  horses 
unaccountably  used  up  some  morning,  or  his  wagon  in 
1  liL'  neifjhboring  town.  Hither  witii  their  noble  ethics 
1  liose  New  England  emigrants  had  brought  their  fierce 
biifotry,  which  yielded  fruit,  the  one  as  well  as  the 
other. 


But  on  the  whole,  excess  of  what  wo  call  goodness 
is  I  letter  than  excess  of  wickedness.  A  French  writer 
coinplains,  "  Tous  les  vices  mediocres  sont  presquo 
nvnuralcmontapprouves;  on  ne  les  condamno  quo  dans 
Itiir  exces."  Now  excess  per  .se  I  hold  to  be  the 
vl "ly  essence  of  evil,  the  sum  of  all  evils,  the  solo  evil 
ItK'Klent  to  humanity.  "  Virtus  est  medium  vitiorum 
ct  utrinquo  reductum,"  says  Horace.  Virtue  is  al- 
ways found  lying  between  two  vices.  Those  very 
t  xcellcnces,  moral  and  intellectual,  which  cultivated 
in  moderation  tend  to  happiness,  if  cultivated  to  an 
extreme  tend  to  misery.  Plato  had  the  idea,  though 
it  is  somewhat  confusedly  expressed  when  he  says, 
"Slavery  and  freedom,  if  immoderate,  are  each  of 
them  an  evil;  if  moderate,  they  are  altogether  a  good. 
Moderate  is  the  slavery  to  a  god;  but  immoderate  to 
men.  God  is  a  law  to  the  man  of  sense;  but  j)leasure 
is  a  law  to  the  fool."  Dr  Young  remarks,  "When 
W(;  dip  too  deep  in  pleasure  we  always  stir  up  a 
.sediment  that  renders  it  impure  and  noxious."  We 
can  but  notice  in  the  history  of  high  attainments 
leaehed  by  various  ages  and  nations,  culminating 
jtoiuts,  in  leaping  which  progress  defeats  itself  Un- 
due culture  in  one  direction  retards  advancement  in 
aiiotlier.  Intellectual  excesses,  of  all  others,  tend  to 
<liive  a  man  to  extremes.  The  higher  a  brain  worker 
is  lifted  out  of  or  above  himself,  the  lower  he  sinks  in 
the  reaction;  for  to  ignore  himself,  his  human  and 
material  nature,  is  impossible.  A  strain  upon  those 
exquisitely  delicate  organs  essential  to  the  higher 
chords  of  genius  produces  discordant  results.  The 
teuq)tation  for  refined  and   intellectual  men  to   pe- 


68 


SPRINGS  AND  LITTLE  BROOKS. 


riodical  coarseness  and  immorality  is  far  greater  than 
persons  of  less  delicate  organizations  can  imagine. 
Thus  beyond  a  certain  line  the  intellectual  in  man 
can  be  further  developed  only  at  the  expense  of  the 
j)hysical,  or  the  physical  only  at  the  expense  of  the 
nieiital.  The  intensity  of  force  arising  from  alco- 
holic stimulants  results  in  subsequent  cxliaustion. 
Consulting  Dr  Fothergill  on  this  subject,  we  are  told 
that  "  where  man  is  left  too  much  to  his  mere  muscu- 
lar efforts,  without  the  mind  being  engaged,  wo  find 
disease  engendered,  and  that,  too,  to  a  decided  extent. 
The  monotonous  occupation  entailed  by  the  division 
of  labor,  and  the  mental  lethargy  entailed  by  a  form  of 
labor  making  no  demand  upon  the  intellectual  powers, 
leave  the  persons  engagc^d  in  such  labor  a  prey  to 
every  form  of  excitement  when  tlie  work  hours  are 
over.  Drunkenness,  political  and  theological  agitation, 
bursts  of  excitement,  and  a  sensational  literature  of 
the  lowest  order,  are  the  price  mankiml  pays  for  t\\r 
development  of  industrial  enterprise.  Insanity  dog> 
the  ne<dect  of  the  intellect  even  more  than  over-ust 
of  it,  and  tlie  percentage  of  insanity  among  field 
laborers  is  much  higher  than  among  the  professional 
classes." 

It  is  by  the  development  of  all  our  faculties  simiil 
taneously  that  perfect  manhood  is  attained.  For  m 
this  simultaneous  development  the  true  mean  asserts 
itself  and  subordinates  excess.  The  moment  (me  faculty 
is  taxed  at  the  expense  of  another  both  cry  out  for  rr 
dress;  one  by  reason  of  the  too  heavy  burden  laid  upon 
it,  and  the  otlier  under  the  sufferings  of  neglect.  Ex- 
cess pays  rio  attention  to  these  cries,  but  abandons  its 
victim  to  passion;  while  temperance  heeds  and  obeys. 
Hence  excessive  so-called  goodness  becomes  in  itsell"  a 
great  evil,  and  excessive  so-called  evil  is  sure  in  th*- 
end  to  react  and  to  some  extent  right  itself,  or  rot  and 
fall  in  pieces.  Abstract  evil  without  some  amalgam 
of  good  to  give  it  form  and  consi.stence  cannot  hold 
together.     It  is  like  a  lump  of  clay  fashioned*  in  the 


THE  HAPPY  MEAN. 


60 


image  of  man,  but  without  life  or  motive  principle;  or 
like  man  fashioned  after  the  image  of  his  maker,  with- 
out the  soul  of  the  creator's  goodness.  We  are  not 
invited  into  this  world  to  be  angels  or  demons,  but 
simply  men;  let  us  strive  never  so  liard  to  be  one  or 
the  other,  and  we  signally  fail.  Coupled  with  the 
superlative,  "Pray  without  ceasing,"  is  the  caution, 
'•  Be  not  righteous  overmuch."  Avoid  irreligion, 
atheism,  soulless  nescience;  avoid  likewise  supersti- 
tion, fanaticism,  and  pious  brawlings.  May  not  our 
ills  1)0  merely  blessinixs  in  excess?  And  the  hiijher 
and  holier  the  good,  the  greater  the  curwo  of  it  when 
wt  swallow  too  much.     I  know  of  no  such  things  as 

•  \  ices  mediocres.'  To  sin  against  my  body,  be  it  ever 
sc»  little,  is  to  sin,  for  it  is  written,  "  Thou  shah  do 
no  murder;"  to  sin  against  my  mind,  my  soul,  is  to 
sin  against  mind  immortal,  the  soul  of  my  soul.  This 
it  is  to  be  born  in  sin,  and  nothing  more;  to  be  born 
unevenly  balanced,  so  that  throughout  life  we  are 
<  onstantly  vibrating,  ever  verging  toward  one  extreme 
ot  another. 

In  the  broader  view  of  man  and  his  environment, 
in  watching  the  powerful  inHuences  that  govern  him, 
and  his  almost  futile  efforts  to  govern  himself  or 
liis  surroundings,  one  cannot  but  be  struck  by  the 
>i  H-rogulating  |)rinciple  in  the  machinery.  We  walk 
through  life  as  on  a  tight-rope,  and  the  more  c\vidy 
\\r  balance  ourselves  the  better  we  can  i;o  for^vard. 
Too  much  leaning  on  one  side  involves  a  correspond- 
ing movement  toward  the  other  extreme  in  order  to 
uain  an  equilibrium,  and  so  we  go  on  wriggling  and 
tnttei'ing  all  our  days.     Hence,  lo  avoid  excesses  of 

•  very  kind  1  hold  to  be  the  triiest  wisdom.  We  have 
hcloro  us,  in  the  history  of  mankind,  thousands  of 
<'\ani|>les  if  we  would  profit  by  them,  thousands 
"I*  illustrations  if  wo  will  see  them,  wherein  excess  of 
what  we  call  good  and  excess  of  what  we  call  evil  both 
ahke  tend  to  destruction.  The  eflects  of  excessive 
I  lift  y  are  before  us  in  forms  of  morbid  asceticism,  with 


70 


SPRINGS  AND  LITTLE  BROOKS. 


.self-flagellations,  and  starvations,  and  half  a  nation 
turned  bcf^garly  monks,  to  bo  kept  alive  at  the  ex- 
pense of  the  other  half  or  left  to  die;  in  persecutions 
and  slaughters,  which  for  centuries  made  this  fair 
oartli  an  Aceldama,  whence  the  smoke  from  reeking 
millions  slain,  ascending  heavenward,  called  aloud  for 
vengeance.  "  Crucify  thy  body  and  the  lusts  thereof," 
cries  tlie  ascetic;  until,  alas!  the  knees  smite  together, 
and  the  imbecile  mind,  deprived  of  its  sustenance, 
wanders  with  weird  images  in  the  clouds.  "  Give  us 
meat  and  drink;  let  us  be  merry,"  says  the  sensualist; 
and  so  the  besotted  intellect  is  brought  down  and 
bemired  until  the  very  brutes  regard  it  contemptu- 
ously. Away  with  effeminate  sentimentality  on  the 
one  side  and  beastly  indulgence  on  the  other!  Awuv 
with  straining  at  gnats  and  swallowing  camels!  Use, 
but  do  not  abuse,  all  that  God  has  given  thee — thf 
fair  earth,  that  wonderful  machine,  thy  body,  that 
tlirico  awful  intelligence  that  enthrones  thy  body 
and  makes  thee  companion  of  immortals.  (J i veil  a 
world  of  beinijs  in  which  mind  and  body  are  evenlv 
balanced,  and  the  millennium  were  come;  no  mon- 
need  (»f  priest  or  pill-taking;  no  more  need  of  propa- 
gandist or  hangman.  Olympus  .sinks  to  earth,  and 
men  walk  to  and  tVo  as  gods. 

It  is  the  will  of  (fod,  as  Christianity  expresses  it, 
or  inexorable  necessity,  as  the  Greek  poets  would  say, 
or  ihe  tendency  of  evolution,  as  science  ])uts  it,  i'or 
goodness  on  this  earth  to  grow;  for  men  to  beconn 
better,  and  for  evil  to  disappear.  Self-preservation 
demands  moderation  in  all  things,  and  it  is  ordained, 
whether  we  will  it  or  not,  that  temperance,  chastity, 
i'rugalitv,  and  all  that  is  elevating  and  ennol)ling,  shall 
ultimately  prevail.  Not  that  we  are  passive  instru 
nients  in  the  hand  of  fate,  without  will  or  power  to 
move.  We  may  put  forth  our  puny  eilbrts,  and  a- 
regards  our  individual  selves,  and  those  nearest  us, 

'i  nuK'h;  and  the  more  we  strun-o].^ 


I 


may 


»P 


for  the  riLrht,  whether  on  utilitarian  or  inherent  m< 


*^^ 


EARLY  ABOLITIONISM. 


71 


rulity  principles,  the  more  we  cultivate  in  our  hearts 
the  elements  of  piety,  morality,  and  honesty,  the 
hotter  and  happier  we  are.  This  the  experience  of 
ill!  mankind  in  all  ages  teaches,  and  this  our  own  ex- 
))crionce  tells  us  every  day.  Whatever  else  I  know 
or  am  doubtful  of,  one  thing  is  plain  and  sure  to  me: 
to  tlo  my  duty  as  best  I  may,  each  day  and  hour,  as  it 
coiues  before  me;  to  do  the  right  as  best  I  know  it, 
toward  God,  my  neighljor,  and  myself;  this  done,  and 
I  may  safely  trust  tlie  rest.  To  know  tlie  riglit,  and 
do  it,  that  is  life.  Compromises  with  misery-breeding 
i;4iiorance,  blind  and  stupid  bigotry,  and  coyings  and 
hailotings  with  pestilential  prudences,  lackadaisical 
Initerings  and  tamperings  with  conscience,  when  right 
on  before  you  is  the  plain  Christ-trodden  path  — 
tliese  thinjTfs  are  death.  He  who  knows  the  riffht  and 
does  it,  never  dies;  he  who  tampers  with  the  wrong, 
(hes  every  day.  But  u  isl  conduct  is  one  thing  and 
lules  of  conduct  <|uite  ..ii'ther. 

Nevertheless,  I  say  it  is  better  to  be  righteous 
overnmch  than  to  be  incorrigibly  wicked.  And  so 
the  puritans  of  Granville  thought  as  they  enlarged 
their  meetinjj-houses,  and  erected  husjce  seminaries  of 
learning,  and  called  upon  the  benighted  from  all  parts 
to  come  in  and  be  told  the  truth.  Likewise  they  com- 
forted tlie  colored  race. 

The  most  brilliant  exploit  of  my  life  was  performed 
at  the  tender  age  of  eleven,  whi'ii  1  spent  a  whole 
iiisjrht  in  drivinui:  a  two-horse  wtiu^on  load  of  runaway 
shives  on  their  wav  from  Kentucky  and  slavery  t.; 
Canada  and  freedom — an  exploit  which  was  regarded 
ill  tliose  days  by  that  community  witli  little  less  aji- 
I>robation  than  that  bestowed  by  a  fond  Apache 
mother  upon  the  son  who  brandishes  before  her  his 
lirst  scalp.  The  ebony  cargo  consisted  of  three  men 
and  two  women,  who  had  been  brought  into  town  the 
night  before  by  ;,ome  teamster  of  kindred  mind  to  my 
lather's,  and  kept  simgly  stowed  away  from  prying 


SPRINGS  AND  LITTLE  BROOKS. 


eyes  during  the  day.  About  nine  o'clock  at  night 
the  large  lumber-box  wagon  filled  with  straw  was 
brought  out,  and  the  black  dissenters  from  the  Ameri- 
oiiu  constitution,  who  so  lightly  esteemed  our  glorious 
land  of  freedom,  were  packed  under  the  straw,  and 
some  blankets  and  sacks  thrown  carelessly  ovei-  them, 
so  that  outwardly  there  might  be  no  signillcance  of 
the  dark  and  hidden  meaning  of  the  load.  My  care- 
ful mother  bundled  me  in  coats  and  scarfs,  to  Iceep  me 
from  fnuzing,  and  with  a  rounil  of  good-bys,  given 
not  without  some  appreliensions  for  my  safety,  and 
with  minute  instructions,  repeated  many  times  lest  I 
should  forgot  them,  I  climbed  to  my  seat,  took  the 
reins,  and  (hove  slowly  out  of  town.  Once  or  Iwice  1 
was  hailed  by  some  curious  passer-by  with,  "Wliat 
have  you  got  there ?"  to  which  I  made  answer  as  in 
such  case  had  been  provided.  Just  what  the  answer 
was  I  have  forgotten,  but  it  partook  somewhat  of 
the  flavor  of  my  mission,  which  was  more  In  the 
direction  of  the  law  of  (iod  than  of  the  law  of  man. 
Without  telling  an  unaduherated  Ananias  and  Saj)- 
phira  lie,  I  gave  the  inquirer  no  very  relialde  informa- 
tion; still,  most  of  the  ])cople  in  that  vicinity  under- 
stood well  enough  what  the  load  meant,  and  were  in 
sympathy  with  the  shippers.  I  was  much  nearer 
danger  when  I  fell  asleep  and  ran  tlie  wagon  against 
a  tree  near  a  bank,  over  whicli  my  load  narrowly 
escaped  being  tuj-ned.  The  fact  is,  this  was  the  Mrst 
time  in  my  life  I  had  ever  attempted  to  keep  my  eyes 
open  all  night,  and  more  than  once,  as  my  iiorses 
jogged  along,  I  was  brought  to  my  senses  by  a  jolt, 
and  without  any  definite  idea  of  the  character  of  the 
road  for  some  distance  back.  ]\Iy  freight  behaved 
very  well;  once  fairly  out  into  the  country,  and  into 
the  night,  the  'darkies'  straightened  up,  grinned,  and 
ap})eared  to  enjoy  the  pei'loruiance  iuigi'ly.  During 
the  night  they  would  fVe(|Uently  get  out  and  walk, 
always  taking  care  to  keep  carefully  covered  in  passing 
throuirh  a  town.    Al)out  three  o'clock  in  the  mornlnjx 


4 
I 


% 


NEGRO  SLAVERY  REFORM.  73 

T  entered  a  village  and  drove  up  to  the  house  whither 
I  liad  been  directed,  roused  the  inmates,  and  trans- 
((•rred  to  them  my  load.  Then  I  drove  back,  sleepy 
but  happy. 

( )iii'i;  my  father's  bai'ii  was  selected  as  the  most 
available  place  for  holdini,^  a  jjjrand  abolition  nioetinuc, 
llio  first  anniversary  of  the  Ohio  State  Anti-Slavery 
society.  Rotten  eg<jjs  ilcw  lively  about  the  heads  of 
the  s[)eakers,  but  they  sulfered  no  serious  incon- 
venience from  them  until  after  the  meeting  was  over 
and  tuoy  had  begun  their  homeward  journey.  Beyond 
the  precincts  of  the  village  they  were  ntet  by  a  mob, 
and  altiiough  spurring  their  horses  they  did  not  escape 
until  the  foul  Hood  had  drenchetl  them.  Those  were 
hajipy  days,  when  there  was  something  to  sutler  for; 
now  that  the  slavery  monster  is  dead,  and  the  slayers 
have  well-nigh  spent  their  strength  kicking  the  carcass, 
then?  is  no  h<'lj»  for  reformers  but  to  run  off  into 
woman's  rights,  free-love,  and  a  new  sti-ing  of  petty 
isms  which  should  put  them  to  the  blush  after  tiieir 
doughty  deeds.  There  are  yet  many  s(»uls  dissatisfied 
with  God's  management  of  things,  who  fi.!el  them- 
•^elvcs  ordained  to  re-create  mankirid  upon  a  moilel 
of  their  own.  Unfortunately  tiie  model  varies,  and 
instead  of  one  creator  we  have  ten  thousand,  who 
turn  the  world  upside  down  with  their  whimsical 
■v'ugaries. 


I  cannot  say  that  my  childhood  was  particularly 
i!aji[»y;  or  if  it  was,  its  sorrows  i\ro  d<'e[ier  graven 
on  my  memory  than  its  joys.  The  fault,  if  i'ate  bo 
fault,  was  not  my  parents',  Avho  were  always  most 
kind  to  me.  Excessive  S(?nsitiv(ness  lias  ever  bi'cji 
niy  (.'urso;  since  my  earliest  recollections  1  have 
sull'ered  I'rom  this  defect  mon*  than  i  can  tell,  Mv 
peace  of  mind  has  ever  been  in  hands  otiier  than  my 
'wn  :  at  school  rude  boys  cowed  ami  tormented  mo, 
;tnd  later  knaves  and  fools  have  licld  me  in  derision. 
How  painful   to  a   sensitive   mind    is   the  attention 


74 


SPRINGS  AND  LITTLE  BROOKS. 


drawn  by  personal  peculiarity;  how  powerful  the  in- 
fluence of  external  trifles  1  Instance  Byron,  with  his 
club-foot;  and  the  pimpled  Hazlitt,  as  his  Tory  critics 
called  him,  his  morbid  imagination  haunted  by  the 
ever  present  picture  of  himself,  the  sinister  effects  of 
which  governed  well-nigji  every  action  of  his  life. 
Tlicn  there  was  the  dusopia  r>f  Plutarch's  which  con- 
sisted ill  t]\v  inability  of  saying  no;  and  the  shyness 
that  subordinated  judgment  to  fear,  such  as  that 
manifested  by  Antipater  when  invited  to  the  feast  of 
Demetrius,  or  that  of  young  Hercules,  Alexanders 
son,  who  was  browbeaten  into  accepting  the  invitation 
of  Polysperchon,  which,  as  the  son  of  Alexander  had 
feared,  rosultod  in  his  death  ;  worst  of  all  is  the  basli- 
fulness  of  dissimulation,  and  that  counterfeit  of  shy- 
ness, egoism.  I  never  had  any  difficulty  in  saying  no, 
never  lacked  decision.  No  matter  at  what  expense  of 
unpopularity,  or  even  odium,  I  stootl  always  ready  to 
maintain  the  right;  and  as  for  the  diffidence  of  dis- 
simulation, I  was  frank  enough  among  my  friends, 
though  reserved  with  strangers.  By  nature  I  was 
melancholy  without  being  morose,  affectionate  and 
proud,  and  keenly  alive  to  home  happiness  and  the 
oiessings  of  every-day  life.  So  far  as  I  am  able  to 
VbUuU/.  tli(.'  failing,  it  arose  from  no  sense  of  fear, 
inferiority,  or  vanity;  it  was  simply  a  dibtaste  or  dis- 
inclin  .tion  to  feel  obliged  to  meet  and  converse  with 
sir  'iigers  wluni  T  hud  nothing  to  see  tlicm  for,  and 
nothing  to  converse  about;  at  the  same  time,  v/lien 
urged  by  duty  or  business,  n.r  mind  once  made  up, 
I  could  go  anywhere  and  encounter  any  person  with- 
out knee-shaking.  My  trouble  partook  more  of  that 
nervousness  wliich  Lord  Macaulay  as<"  'bes  to  Mr 
Pitt  who  always  took  laudiuium  and  sal- volatile  ]:)efor(! 
sjX'uking,  than  of  that  shyness  complained  of  by 
Bnhver,  who  said  he  could  resist  an  invitation  to 
dinner  so  long  as  it  came  t^  rough  a  third  person, 
in  the  form  of  a  written  or  verbal  message,  but 
cnco  .'Assaulted   by  the  entertainer  in  |H;rson  and   ho 


m 


^m 


'»i  t 


SUPERSENSITIVENES3. 


75 


was  lost.  It  is  true,  a  simple  invitation  to  a  general 
assemblage  oppressed  my  spirits,  yot  I  would  go  and 
endure  from  a  sense  of  duty,  I  was  timid;  others 
wore  bold.  Conscious  of  merits  and  abilities,  superior, 
in  my  own  opinion  at  least,  to  those  of  the  persons  I 
most  disliked  to  meet,  I  would  not  subject  myself  to 
the  withering  influences  of  tlieir  loud  and  burly  talk- 
ing. With  the  natural  desire  lor  approbation  mingled 
a  nervous  horror  of  sliame;  with  aspirations  to  excel 
the  fears  of  failure;  and  I  felt  a  strong  repugnance  to 
exposing  myself  at  a  disadvantage;,  or  permitting  such 
merit  as  I  possessed  to  be  undervalued  or  overmatched 
by  the  boisterous  and  contemptible.  Yet  I  will  con- 
tend that  it  was  less  pride  than  a  morbid  excess  of 
motlosty  curdleil  into  a  curse. 

The  author  of  Caxtoniana  sa3's  in  his  essay  on  shy- 
ness: "When  a  man  has  unmistakably  done  a  some- 
thing that  is  meritorious,  he  must  know  it;  and  ho 
cannot  in  his  heart  untlervalue  that  something,  other- 
wise he  would  never  have  strained  all  his  energy  to 
do  it.  But  till  he  has  done  it,  it  is  not  sure  tliat  he 
can  do  it;  and  if,  relying  upon  what  he  fancies  to  be 
genius,  he  do(!s  not  take  as  much  pains  as  if  he  were 
(hill,  the  probability  is  that  he  will  not  do  it  at  all. 
Thoreforo  merit  not  proved  is  modest;  it  covets 
approbation,  but  is  not  sure  that  it  can  win  it.  And 
wliilo  thus  eager  for  its  object,  and  secretly  strength- 
iiiing  all  its  powers  to  achieve  it  by  a  wise  distrust  of 
unproved  capacities  and  a  fervent  admiration  for  the 
highest  models,  merit  is  tremulously  shy."  It  is  by 
no  means  proven  that  modesty  is  a  mark  of  merit,  or 
shyness  a  si<xn  of  ixenius.  On  the  contrary  wo  nii^ht 
as  naturally  ask  of  the  bashful  person  what  lie  has 
•  lone  that  he  is  ashamed  of  ]hit  withimt  theory, 
without  knowing  or  caring  what  was  the  cause,  ;dl 
through  my  younger  days  to  meet  people  was  dis- 
tasteful to  me;  so  I  threw  rouml  myself  a  wall  oi 
.solitude,  within  which  admittance  was  gained  by  few. 
This  state  of  thintjs  continued  until  some  time  after 


78 


SPRINGS  AND  LITTLE  BROOKS. 


I  had  arrived  at  the  age  of  maturity,  when  it  grad- 
ually left  me ;  enough  remaining,  however,  to  remind 
me  of  the  past. 

It  is  one  of  the  saddest  processes  of  life,  this  of 
tanning  the  heart  and  turning  the  seat  of  the  affec- 
tions into  a  barb-proof  ball;  but  there  is  no  other  way 
of  warding  off  those  untoward  accidents  and  incidents 
which  peril  tlie  sensitive  angles  of  the  many-sided 
bashful  man,  and  of  keeping  back  affliction  that  con- 
stantly ])ours  in  upon  him.  To  absorb  and  digest  all 
the  infelicities  that  press  round  us  is  like  going  to  sea 
in  a  worm-eaten  boat;  despite  our  best  efforts  the  bitter 
waters  will  come  in  and  overwhelm  us.  From  tiie 
day  of  our  birth  till  death  gives  us  rest,  ills  hover 
over  us  and  crowd  round  us,  fancied  ills  most  of  them, 
or  misfortunes  which  never  happen,  but  to  the  timid 
more  fearful  than  real  ones.  There  are  more  of 
these  than  we  are  able  to  bear,  and  if  we  would  not 
vsink  into  the  depths  of  despair  wo  must  fill  our  hearts 
with  that  which  will  turn  the  tide  of  unhappiness. 
Pitch  will  do  it  to  some  extent,  though  it  may  not  be 
handled  without  defilement.  Cliarity  absorbs  troubles 
rather  than  sheds  tliem.  Nevertheless,  whatever  the 
cost,  some  portion  of  the  frowns  of  our  fellows  and 
the  evils  anticipated  by  the  fearful  and  sensitive  must 
be  flung  off.  We  suffer  infinitely  more  in  the  antici- 
pation than  in  the  reality,  and  then  not  more  than 
one  in  a  hundred  of  our  anticipated  evils  ever  reaches 
us.  ]jike  Pyranms,  who  ])rematui'oly  stabbed  him- 
self because  he  t]iou*dit  his  Thisbe  slain  by  a  lion 
when  she  was  safe,  or  liomeo,  who  might  have  had 
his  Juliet  here  had  lie  not  been  in  sucli  haste  to  meet 
her  in  heaven,  we  are  driven  to  despair  by  the  evil 
that  never  touches  us.  Throw  off  evil,  then;  and 
above  all,  throw  <iff  the  fear  of  possible  or  probable 
evil.  When  it  comes,  turn  your  craft  to  meet  the 
storm  as  best  you  may,  but  do  not  die  a  thousand 
times  before  death  comes. 

And  thus  it  was  tliat  later  in  life,  as  I  wandered 


;| 


THE  MOVE  TO  MISSOURI. 


77 


among  the  scenes  of  my  childhood,  sadness  stood 
everywhere  prominent.  I  seemed  to  remember  only 
the  agony  of  my  young  life,  and  every  step  I  took 
wrung  from  my  very  soul  tears  of  .sympathetic  pity. 
The  steed  well  fed  and  warmly  housed  at  night  will 
stand  the  keenest,  coldest  day  unilinchingly;  give  to 
the  l)oy  a  ha])])y  life,  and  the  man  will  take  care  of 
himself  Let  him  who  will,  after  arriving  at  maturity, 
defy  opinion  and  the  contempt  of  the  world,  hut  do 
not  ask  the  child  to  do  it.  Nothing  exceeds  the 
misery  suffered  by  the  sensitive  youth  from  the  jeer.s 
of  companions.  Let  the  boy  he  a  boy  during  his 
youth,  and  as  far  into  manhood  as  ])ossiblc.  The 
boyish  delight  of  Lamartine  as  he  revelled  among  the 
mountain's  sparkling  streams,  breathing  the  flower- 
secnted  lireath  of  May,  was  to  his  ascetic  father-con- 
fessor, Pere  Varlet,  almost  a  crime.  I  was  reared  in 
that  saturnine  school  which  teaches  it  to  be  a  sin 
for  the  insulted  boy  to  strike  back ;  and  often  in  my 
srhool-days,  overwhelmed  with  a  sense  of  ignominy 
and  wrong,  I  have  stolen  off  to  weep  away  a  wounded 
spirit.  The  fruit  of  such  training  never  leaves  the 
child  or  man;  its  sting  penetrates  tlie  blood  and  bones, 
and  poisons  the  whole  future  life.  Yet  for  all  that, 
and  more,  of  puritan  (Granville  I  may  say,  it  was  well 
for  tliis  man  that  lie  was  born  there. 


]\Iy  boyhood  was  spent  in  working  during  the 
summer,  and  in  winter  attending  school,  where  I 
jii'ogressed  so  far  as  to  obtain  a  smattering  of  Latin 
and  Greek,  and  some  insight  into  the  higher  mathe- 
matics. No  sooner  had  my  father  placed  in  a  forward 
state  of  cultivation  his  hundred  acres,  and  built  him 
a  largo  and  comfortable  stone  house — which  he  did 
with  his  own  hands,  quarrying  tlie  blocks  from  a  hill 
near  b}' — and  cleared  the  place  from  debt,  than,  seized 
l\y  tiiC  spirit  of  unrest,  he  sold  his  pleasant  home  and 
moved  his  family  to  the  ague  swamps  of  New  Madrid, 
Missouri,  where  rich  land,  next  to  nothing  in  price. 


n 


SPRINGS  AND  LITTLE  BROOKS. 


rr 


1 


with  little  cultivation  would  yield  enormous  returns, 
worth  next  to  nothinjj  when  harvested,  through  lack 
of  any  market. 

Alter  three  years  of  ague  and  earthquake  agita- 
tions in  that  uncertain-l)ottomed  sand-blown  land  of 
opossums  and  ])uckering  [)erummons,  fearing  lest  the 
very  ilesh  would  he  shaken  iiom  our  bones,  wo  all 
packed  ourselves  back,  and  began  once  n)ore  where 
we  left  off,  but  minus  the  comfortal>le  stone  house  and 
farm. 

(Jail  it  discontent,  ambition,  enterprise,  or  what  you 
will,  I  find  this  spirit  of  my  father  fastened  somewhat 
upon  liis  son;  though  with  Caliph  Ali,  Mohammed's 
son-in-law,  I  may  say,  that  "in  the  course  of  my  long 
life,  I  have  ol'ten  obsi^rved  that  men  are  more  like  the 
times  th(>y  live  in  than  they  are  like  their  lathers." 
It  is  cliai'actoiistic  of  some  people  that  they  are  never 
satisfied  excej)t  when  they  are  a  little  miserable.  Like 
the  albatross,  which  loves  the  tempest,  sailing  round 
and  round  this  life's  waste  of  ocean,  if  j)erchance  he 
crosses  tiie  lino  of  calm,  he  straightway  turns  back, 
suffocated  by  the  silence,  and  with  much  contentment 
commits  himself  to  new  bufletings.  I'hilosophically 
put  by  Herbert  Ainslie,  "Self-consciousness  must  in- 
volve intervals  of  unhappiness;  not  to  be  self-conscious 
is  to  be  as  bii-d  or  beast,  livinif  without  knowing: 
it,  having  no  remembrance  or  anticipation  of  joy  or 
sorrow.  Self- consciousness,  too,  nmst  involve  the 
consciousness  of  an  ideal  or  type;  a  sense  of  that 
which  nature  intended  us  to  be,  and  how  far  wc  fall 
short  of  it.  To  finish  my  homil}',  if  man  be  the 
highest  result  of  nature's  lonof  efi'ort  to  become  self- 
conscious,  to  'know  herself,'  not  to  be  self-conscious, 
that  is,  to  be  ahvays  happy,  is  to  be  not  one  of  na- 
ture's highest  results.  The  '  [)erfect  man,'  then,  must 
bo  one  'accpiainted  with  grief"  Often  in  the  simple 
desire  for  new  companionship  we  tire  of  unadulter- 
ated good,  and  connnunion  with  some  sorrow  or  the 
nursing  of  some   heartache  becomes  a  pleasing  pas- 


THE  SPIRIT  OF  UNREST. 


79 


time.  There  arc  persons  who  will  not  be  satisfied, 
though  in  their  garden  were  planted  the  kalpa-taron, 
the  tree  of  the  imagination,  in  Indian  inytholog>-, 
whence  may  be  gathered  whatever  is  ilesircd.  To 
natures  thus  constituted  a  real  tangible  calamity,  such 
iis  failure  in  business  or  the  breaking  of  a  leg,  is  a  god- 
send. Pure  unalloyed  comfort  is  to  them  the  most 
uncomfortable  of  positions.  The  rested  bones  ache 
tor  new  hardships,  and  the  (piieted  mind  frets  for 
new  cares.  So  roam  our  souls  through  life,  sailing 
eternally  in  air  like  feetless  birds  of  paradise. 

After  all,  this  si)irit,  the  spirit  of  unrest,  of  discon- 
tent, is  the  spirit  of  progress.  Underlying  all  activi- 
ties, it  moves  every  enterprise;  it  is  tiie  mainspring 
of  commerce,  culture,  and  indeed  of  every  agency  that 
stimulates  human  im[)rovement.  Nay,  more:  that  fire 
which  may  not  be  smothered,  that  will  not  let  us  rest, 
those  deep  and  ardent  longings  that  .stir  up  discon- 
tent, that  breed  distempers,  and  make  a  bed  of  roses 
to  us  a  couch  of  thorns — religion  it  may  be,  and  ideal 
national  morality,  or  sense  of  duty,  or  laudable  desire 
in  any  form — is  it  any  other  inlluence  than  Omnipo- 
tence working  in  us  his  eternal  purposes,  driving  us 
on,  poor  blind  cogs  that  we  are  in  the  wheel  of  destiny, 
to  the  fulfilment  of  predetermined  ends?  It  is  a  law 
of  nature  that  water,  the  life-giver,  the  restorer,  the 
purifier,  shall  find  no  rest  upon  this  planet;  it  is  a 
law  of  God  that  we,  human  drops  in  the  stream  of 
[irogress,  shall  move  ever  onward — in  the  l)ubblings, 
and  vaultings,  and  pool-eddyings  of  youth,  in  the  suc- 
cessive murmurings,  and  roarings,  and  deeper  afiairs  of 
life,  and  in  the  more  silent  and  sluggish  flow  of  age — 
on,  never  resting,  to  the  black  limitless  ocean  of  the 
Beyond. 

Nor  may  our  misery,  our  nervous  petulance,  our 
fretful  discontent,  our  foolish  fears,  and  all  the  cata- 
logue of  hateful  visitations  that  grate  and  jar  upon 
ourselves  and  others,  and  make  us  almost  savage  in 
our  undying  hunger,  be  altogether  accounted  to  us  for 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


1.0 


I.I 


1^  III  2.8 

m 

3.2 


2.5 


22 

4  0    Hill  2.0 


18 


1.25      1.4 

1.6 

-^— 6"     - 

► 

V] 


<^ 


/a 


""3 


^ 


fi: 


^;. 


V 


/A 


Photographic 

Sciences 

Corporation 


23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14580 

(716)  872-4503 


A 


80 


SPRINGS  AND  LITTLE  BROOKS. 


Ill'' 


f  ■' 


ill.  That  divina  particida  aurce,  the  one  little  particle 
of  divine  breath  that  is  within  us,  will  not  let  us  rest. 
As  Pierre  Nicol  has  it,  "L'homme  est  si  miserable, 
que  I'inconstance  avec  laquelle  il  abandonne  ses  des- 
seins  est,  en  quelque  sorte,  sa  plus  grande  vertu; 
parce  qu'il  temoigne  par  Ih,  qu'il  y  a  encore  en  lui 
quelque  reste  de  grandeur  qui  le  porte  h  se  dcgouter 
des  choses  qui  ne  muritent  pas  son  amour  et  son 
estime." 

Lovely  little  Granville  1  dear,  quiet  home -nook; 
under  the  long  grass  of  thy  wall-encircled  burial- 
ground  rest  the  bones  of  these  new  puritan  patri- 
archs, whose  chaste  lives,  for  their  descendants,  and 
for  all  who  shall  heed  them,  bridge  the  chasm  between 
the  old  and  the  new,  between  simple  faith  and  soul- 
sacrificing  science,  between  the  east  and  the  west — 
the  chasm  into  which  so  many  have  haplessly  fallen. 
Many  a  strong  man  thou  hast  begotten  and  sent 
forth,  not  cast  upon  the  world  lukewarm,  character- 
less, but  as  sons  well  trained  and  positive  for  good 
or  evil. 

Lovely  in  thy  summer  smiles  and  winter  frowns; 
lovely,  decked  in  dancing  light  and  dew  pearls,  or  in 
night's  star-studded  robe  of  sleep.  Under  the  soft 
sky  of  summer  we  ploughed  and  planted,  made  hay, 
and  harvested  the  grain.  Winter  was  the  time  for 
study,  while  nature,  Avrapped  in  her  cold  covering,  lay 
at  rest.  Fun  and  frolic  then  too  were  abroad  on  those 
soft  silvery  nights,  when  the  moon  played  between  the 
brilliant  sky  and  glistening  snow,  and  the  crisp  air 
carried  far  over  the  hills  the  sound  of  bells  and  merry 
laughter.  Then  winter  warms  into  spring,  that  sun- 
spirit  which  chases  away  the  snow,  and  swells  the  buds, 
and  fills  the  air  with  the  melody  of  birds,  and  scatters 
fragrance  over  the  breathing  earth ;  and  spring  melts 
into  summer,  and  summer  sighs  her  autumn  exit — 
autumn,  loved  by  many  as  the  sweetest,  saddest  time 
of  the  year,  when  the  husbandman,  after  laying  up  his 


i!,J!!;l!l,i|^ 
liii 


MY  CHILDHOOD  HOME. 


81 


winter  store,  considers  for  a  moment  his  past  and 
future,  when  the  squirrel  heaps  its  nest  with  nuts, 
and  the  crow  flies  to  the  woods,  and  the  cries  of  birds 
of  passage  in  long  angular  processions  are  heard  high 
in  air,  and  the  half-denuded  forest  is  tinged  with  the 
liectic  flush  of  dying  foliage. 

I  well  remember,  on  returning  from  my  absence, 
with  what  envy  and  dislike  I  regarded  as  interlopers 
those  who  then  occupied  my  childhood  home;  and 
child  as  I  was,  the  earliest  and  most  determined  ambi- 
tion of  my  life  was  to  work  and  earn  the  money  to 
l)uy  back  the  old  stone  house.  Ah  Godl  how  with 
swelling  heart,  and  flushed  cheek,  and  brain  on  fire,  I 
have  later  tramped  again  that  ground,  the  ground  my 
boyhood  trod;  how  I  have  skirted  it  about,  and  wan- 
dered through  its  woods,  and  nestled  in  its  hedges, 
listening  to  the  rustling  leaves  and  still  forest  mur- 
murings  that  seemed  to  tell  me  of  the  past;  uncov- 
ering my  head  to  the  proud  old  elms  that  nodded  to 
me  as  I  passed,  and  gazing  at  the  wild-flowers  that 
looked  up  into  my  face  and  smiled  as  I  trod  them, 
even  as  time  had  trodden  my  young  heart;  whis- 
pering to  the  birds  that  stared  strangely  at  me  and 
would  not  talk  to  me — none  save  the  bickering  black- 
bird, and  the  distant  turtle-dove  to  whose  mournful 
tone  my  breast  was  tuned;  watching  in  the  little 
stream  the  minnows  that  I  used  to  fancy  waited  for 
nic  to  come  and  feed  them  before  they  went  to  bed; 
loitering  under  the  golden-sweet  appletree  where  I 
used  to  loll  my  study  hours  away;  eying  the  ill- 
looking  beasts  that  occupied  the  places  of  my  pets, 
while  at  every  step  some  familiar  object  would  send  a 
thousand  sad  memories  tugging  at  my  heartstrings, 
and  call  up  scenes  happening  a  few  years  back  but 
acted  seemingly  ages  ago,  until  I  felt  myself  as  old 
as  Abraham.  There  was  the  orchard,  celestial  white 
and  fragrant  in  its  blossoms,  whose  every  tree  I  could 
toll,  and  the  fruit  that  grew  on  it;  the  meadow, 
through  whose  bristling  stubble  my  naked  feet  had 


Lit.  Ind.    u 


I    !i 


82 


SPRINGS  AND  LITTLE  BROOKS. 


picked  their  way  when  carrying  water  to  the  hay- 
makers and  fighting  bumblebees;  the  cornfield,  where 
I  had  ridden  the  horse  to  plough;  the  barnyard, 
where  from  the  backs  of  untrained  colts  I  had  en- 
countered so  many  falls;  the  hillock,  down  which  I 
had  been  tumbled  by  my  pet  lamb,  afterward  sacri- 
ficed and  eaten  for  its  sins — eaten  unadvisedly  by 
youthful  participants,  lest  the  morsels  should  choke 
them.  There  was  the  garden  I  had  been  made  to 
weed,  the  well  at  which  I  had  so  often  drunk,  the 
barn  where  I  used  to  hunt  eggs,  turn  somersets,  and 
make  such  fearful  leaps  upon  the  hay;  there  were 
the  sheds,  and  yards,  and  porches;  every  fence,  and 
shrub,  and  stone,  stood  there,  the  nucleus  of  a  thousand 
heart  throbs. 

From  the  grassy  field  where  stands  conspicuous 
the  stone-quarry  gash,  how  often  have  I  driven  the 
cows  along  the  base  of  the  wooded  hill  separating  my 
father's  farm  from  the  village,  to  the  distant  pasture 
where  the  long  blue-eyed  grass  was  mixed  with  clover, 
and  sprinkled  with  buttercups,  and  dotted  with  soli- 
tary elms  on  whose  limbs  the  crows  and  blackbirds 
quarrelled  for  a  place.  And  under  the  beech-trees 
beneath  the  hill  where  wound  my  path,  as  my  bare 
feet  trudged  along,  how  boyish  fancies  played  through 
my  brain  while  I  was  all  unconscious  of  the  great 
world  beyond  my  homely  horizon.  On  the  bended 
bough  of  that  old  oak,  planted  long  before  I  was 
born,  and  which  these  many  years  has  furnished  the 
winter's  store  and  storehouse  to  the  thrifty  wood- 
pecker, while  in  its  shadow  lies  the  lazy  cud-chewing 
cow,  there  sits  the  robin  where  sat  his  father,  and  his 
father's  father,  singing  the  self-same  song  his  grand- 
father sang  when  he  wooed  his  mate,  singing  the 
self-same  song  his  sons  and  his  sons'  sons  shall  sing; 
and  still  remains  unanswered  the  question  of  the  boy: 
Who  gives  the  bird  his  music  lesson? 

Dimly,  subduedly  sweet,  were  those  days,  clouded 
perhaps  a  little  with   boyish  melancholy,  and  now 


BOYHOOD  SCENES. 


83 


N 


brought  to  my  remembrance  by  the  play  of  sunshine 
and  shadow  in  and  round  famihar  nooks,  by  the  leafy 
woodbine  under  the  garden  wall,  by  the  sparkling 
(lowy  grass-blades,  and  the  odor  of  the  breathing 
woods,  by  the  crab-appletree  hedge,  covered  with 
grape-vines,  and  bordered  with  blackberry  bushes,  and 
inclosing  the  several  fields,  each  shedding  its  own 
])oculiar  fragrance;  by  the  row  of  puritanical  poplars 
lining  the  road  in  front  of  the  house,  by  the  willows 
drinking  at  the  brook,  the  buckeyes  on  the  hill,  and 
the  chestnut,  hickory,  butternut,  and  walnut  trees, 
whose  fruit  I  gathered  every  autumn,  storing  it  in 
the  garret,  and  cracking  it  on  Sundays  after  sunset, 
as  a  reward  for  'keeping'  Saturday  night.  Even  the 
loud  croaking  of  frogs  in  the  little  swamp  between 
the  barn  and  meadow  thrilled  me  more  than  did  ever 
Strauss'  band. 

There  is  something  delicious  in  the  air,  though  the 
ground  be  wet  and  the  sky  murky;  it  is  the  air  in 
which  I  first  cried  and  laughed.  There,  upon  the 
abruptly  sloping  brow  of  the  hill  yonder,  is  where  I 
buried  myself  beneath  a  load  of  wood,  overturned 
from  a  large  two-horse  sled  into  the  snow.  And  in 
that  strip  of  thicket  to  the  right  I  used  to  hide  from 
thunder-showers  on  my  way  from  school.  Behind 
that  stone  wall  many  a  time  have  I  crept  up  and 
frightened  chanticleer  in  the  midst  of  his  crow,  rais- 
ing his  wrath  by  breaking  his  tune,  and  thereby  in- 
stigating him  to  thrice  as  loud  and  thrice  as  long  a 
singing  the  moment  my  back  was  turned.  The  grove 
nf  sugar-maple  trees,  to  me  a  vast  and  trackless  forest 
infested  with  huge  reptiles  and  ravenous  beasts,  when 
there  I  slept  all  night  by  the  camp-fire  boiling  the 
unsubstantial  sap  to  sweeter  consistency,  it  is  now  all 
cleared  away,  and,  instead,  a  pasture  tempts  the 
simple  sheep.  Away  across  the  four-acre  lot  still 
stands  the  little  old  bridge  wherefrom  I  fished  for 
minnows  in  the  brook  it  spans,  with  pork-baited  pins 
tor  hooks. 


M 


SPRINGS  AND  LITTLE  BROOKS. 


If 


There  is  something  painfully  sweet  in  memories 
painful  or  sweet.  How  sorrows  the  heart  over  its  lost 
friendships;  how  the  breath  of  other  days  whispers  of 
happiness  never  realized ;  how  the  sorrowful  past  plays 
its  exquisite  strains  upon  the  heartstrings!  Things 
long  gone  by,  deemed  little  then  and  joyless,  are  mag- 
nified by  the  mists  of  time  and  distance  into  a  mirage 
of  pleasurable  remembrances.  How  an  old  song  some- 
times stirs  the  whole  reservoir  of  regrets,  and  makes 
the  present  well-nigh  unbearable!  Out  of  my  most 
miserable  past  I  draw  the  deepest  pain-pleasures,  be- 
side which  present  joys  are  insipid.  There  is  no  sadder 
sound  to  the  questioner's  ear  than  the  church  bell 
which  sometime  called  him  to  believing  prayer.  At 
once  it  brings  to  mind  a  thousand  holy  aspirations, 
and  rings  the  death  knell  of  an  eternity  of  joy. 

Like  tiny  tongues  of  pure  flame  darting  upward 
amidst  the  mountain  of  sombre  smoke,  there  are  many 
bright  merxiories  even  among  the  most  melancholy 
reveries.  The  unhappiest  life  contains  many  happy 
hours,  just  as  the  most  nauseating  medicine  is  made 
up  of  divers  sweet  ingredients.  Even  there,  golden 
run  life's  golden  sands,  for  into  the  humble  home 
ambition  brings  as  yet  no  curse. 

But  alas !  the  glowing  charm  thrown  over  all  by  the 
half-heavenly  conceptions  of  childhood  shall  never  be 
revived.  Every  harvesting  now  brings  but  a  new  crop 
of  withered  pleasures,  which  with  the  damask  freshness 
of  youth  are  flung  into  the  storehouse  of  desolation. 
Therefore  hence!  back  to  your  hot-bed;  this  is  a  lost 
Eden  to  you ! 

Thus  wrapped  in  dim  vistas,  forgetful  of  what  I  am, 
of  time,  and  age,  and  ache,  I  light  a  cigar  and  throw  my- 
self upon  the  turf,  and  as  through  the  curling  smoke  I 
review  the  old  familiar  landscape,  the  past  and  present 
of  my  life  circle  round  and  round  and  mount  upward 
with  visions  of  the  future.  With  triple  sense  I  see 
fashioned  by  the  fantastic  smoke  ghosts  of  cities,  seas, 
and  continents,  of  railways,  grain-fields,  and  gold-fields. 


ill 


PAST  AND  PRESENT. 


85 


memories 
er  its  lost 
hispers  of 
past  plays 
!    Things 
,  are  mag- 
)  a  mirage 
ong  some- 
nd  makes 
my  most 
ism-os,  be- 
no  sadder 
lurch  bell 
aver.     At 
spirations, 
joy. 

ig  upward 
)  arc  many 
nelancholy 
any  happy 
le  is  made 
ire,  golden 
ble  home 

all  by  the 

|1  never  be 

new  crop 

freshness 

iesolation. 

ts  is  a  lost 

^hat  I  am, 
throw  my- 
smoke  I 
id  present 
it  upward 
fense  I  see 
(ities,  seas, 
Irold-fields. 


■•a 


Through  the  perspective  of  impassioned  youth  I  see 
ray  bark  buoyant  on  burnished  waters,  while  round 
the  radiant  shore  satisfying  pleasures  beckon  me,  and 
warm  friendships  await  me,  and  the  near  and  dear 
companions  of  my  childhood,  the  hills,  the  trees,  and 
sky,  with  whose  hebate  soul  my  eager  soul  has  often 
held  communion,  imparting  here  alone  the  secrets  of 
my  youthful  phantasy,  they  whisper  the  assurance  in 
my  car  that  every  intense  yearning  shall  be  rocked  to 
rest,  and  every  high  hope  and  noble  aspiration  real- 
ized. Then  with  the  eye  of  mature  manhood  I  look, 
and  experience  reveals  a  charnel-house  of  dead  am- 
bitions, of  failures  chasing  fresh  attempts,  of  lost 
opportunities  and  exploded  honors,  with  all  the  din 
and  clatter  of  present  passionate  strife;  and  along 
the  crowded  pathway  to  Plutus'  shrine  are  weary, 
dusty  pilgrims,  bent  with  toil  and  laden  with  dis- 
appointment. Out  upon  this  so  swiftly  changing 
earth  there  are  the  rich  and  the  poor,  the  righteous 
and  the  wicked,  the  strong  and  healthy,  the  sick  and 
suffering,  advancing  infancy  and  departing  age,  all 
hustling  each  other,  and  hurrying  hither  and  thither, 
like  blind  beetles  following  their  blind  instinct,  not 
knowing  the  sea  or  city,  grain-field  or  gold-field,  not 
knowing  their  whence  or  whither,  not  knowing  them- 
selves or  the  least  of  created  or  uncreated  things. 
Once  more  I  look,  and  behold,  the  flattering  future  is 
as  ready  as  ever  with  her  illusions,  and  men  are  as 
ready  as  ever  to  anchor  to  her  ftilse  hopes! 

Smoke  here  seems  out  of  place.  Its  odor  is  strange 
and  most  unwelcome  in  this  spot.  It  savors  too 
strongly  of  the  city  and  artificial  life,  of  business, 
travel,  and  luxury,  to  harmonize  with  the  fresh 
fragrance  of  the  country.  Let  it  not  poison  the  air 
of  my  early  and  innocent  breathings,  laden  as  are  such 
airs  with  the  perfumes  of  paradise.  Billowy  sensations 
sweep  over  the  breast  as,  standing  thus  alone  amidst 
these  memory  surges,  the  thickly  crowding  imageries  of 
the  past  rise  and  float  upon  the  surface  of  the  present. 


m 


ill*. 

ii      : 
I'll  ill 


86 


SPRINGS  AND  LITTLE  BROOKS. 


How  ticklishly  fall  the  feet  of  manhood  on  paths  its 
infancy  trod !  There  is  a  new  road  through  the  beech 
woods  yonder  which  I  shun  as  possessing  no  interest ; 
I  have  had  enough  of  new  roads.  Then  I  ask  myself, 
will  the  old  elms  never  wither?  will  the  stones  never 
decay  about  these  spots?  Who  would  have  all  the 
farms  bounded  by  this  horizon  as  a  gift?  Yet  people 
will  be  born  here  ten  thousand  years  after  I  am  dead, 
and  people  must  live. 

Lingering  still ;  the  uprooted  affections  hugging  the 
soil  of  their  early  nourishment.  Here,  as  nowhere  on 
this  earth,  nature  and  I  arc  one.  These  hills  and 
fields,  this  verdant  turf  and  yonder  trees  are  part  of 
me,  their  living  and  breathing  part  of  my  living  and 
breathing,  their  soul  one  with  my  soul.  For  all  which 
expression  let  Dante  make  my  apology:  "Poich^  la 
caritil  del  natio  loco,  mi  estrinse,  raunai  le  fronde 
sparte ;"  because  the  charity  of  my  native  place  con- 
strained me,  gathered  I  the  scattered  leaves. 

It  is  a  maddening  pleasure  thus  to  conjure  from  the 
soil  the  buried  imageries  of  boyhood.  At  every  step 
arise  scores  of  familiar  scenes,  ascending  in  sequent 
pictures  that  mingle  with  the  clouds  and  float  off  a 
brilliant  panorama  of  the  past.  The  very  curb-stones 
of  the  village  streets  stand  as  monuments,  and  every 
dust  particle  represents  some  weird  image,  some  boyish 
conceit,  which  even  now  flits  before  me,  racing  round 
the  corners  and  dancing  over  the  house-tops. 

The  pretty  village  has  scarcely  changed  within  the 
quarter  century.  The  broad,  dusty  streets,  bordered 
by  fjrass  and  foliage,  half  burying  the  white  and 
brown  houses  that  lie  scattered  on  either  side;  the 
several  churches,  the  two  great  seminaries,  the  school- 
houses,  and  the  college  on  the  hill,  are  all  as  when  I 
left  them  last. 

Here  is  the  ill  kept  graveyard,  the  scene  of  all  my 
youthful  ghost  stories,  with  its  time-eaten  tombstones 
toppling  over  sunken  graves,  and  its  mammoth  thorn- 
tree,  beneath  whose  shadow  the"  tired  hearse-bearers 


VIX  EA  NOSTRA  VOCO. 


87 


set  down  their  dingy  cloth-covered  hurden  on  the  way 
to  the  newly  made  grave,  while  the  bell  that  strikes 
its  slow  notes  on  the  suffocating  air  warns  all  flesh  of 
coming  dissolution. 

Down  below  the  bench  yonder  winds  the  wooded 
creek,  where  in  my  summer  school-days  we  used  to 
rehearse  our  exhibition  pieces,  and  bathe.  On  the 
other  sides  of  the  village  are  Sugar-loaf  and  Alligator 
hills.    I  grow  thirsty  as  I  drink  the  several  scenes. 

How  distances  lessen  1  Before  eyes  accustomed  to 
wider  range  than  the  village  home  and  farm  adjoining, 
the  mists  and  mirage  of  youth  disappear.  I  start  to 
walk  a  block,  and  ere  aware  of  it  I  am  through  the 
town  and  into  the  country.  After  all,  the  buildings 
and  streets  of  my  native  town  are  not  so  grand  as  my 
youthful  mind  was  impressible. 

How  the  villagers  come  out  of  their  houses  to  stare 
at  me;  and  the  old  stone  house,  how  rusty,  and  rugged, 
and  mean  it  looks  compared  with  the  radiance  my  un- 
hackneyed brain  clothed  it  in,  though  the  tin  roof 
glitters  as  brightly  now  as  then,  and  in  its  day  shel- 
tered a  world  of  love. 

Never  is  there  a  home  like  the  home  of  our  youth ; 
never  such  sunshine  as  that  which  makes  shadows  for 
us  to  play  in,  never  such  air  as  that  which  swells  our 
little  breasts  and  gives  our  happy  hearts  free  expres- 
sion, never  such  water  as  the  laujxhinJT  dancinjj 
streamlet  in  which  we  wade  through  silvery  bub- 
Llings  over  glittering  pebbles.,  never  such  music  as 
the  robin's  roundelay  and  the  swallow's  twittering 
that  wake  us  in  the  mornin<j:,  the  tinklinof  of  the 
cow  beUs,  the  rustling  of  the  vines  over  the  window, 
the  chiiTup  of  the  cricket,  and  the  striking  of  the  old 
house  Clock  that  tells  us  our  task  is  done.  The  home 
of  our  caildhood  once  abandoned,  is  forever  lost.  It 
may  havo  been  a  hut,  standing  on  the  rudest  patch 
of  ground  the  earth  affords,  yet  so  wrapped  round  the 
heart  is  it,  so  charged  with  youthful  imagery  is  every 
stick  and  stone  of  it,  that  the  gilded  castle  built  in 


p. 


88  SPRINGS  AND  LITTLE  BROOKS. 

after  life,  with  all  the  rare  and  costly  furnishings  that 
art  and  ingenuity  can  aflford,  is  but  an  empty  barn 
beside  itl 

What  rcstfulness,  what  heartfelt  satisfaction,  what 
exquisite  joy,  in  returning  to  one's  childhood  home, 
with  its  dear  inmates,  father,  mother,  and  all  the  an- 
cient and  time-honored  belongings,  still  there,  with  all 
those  familiar  objects  which  so  wrap  themselves  round 
our  young  affections,  and  live  within  us,  yielding  joy 
if  not  enjoying,  and  gladdening  the  light  of  day  with 
their  presence.  These  gone,  and  joy  and  beauty  are 
entombed,  and  the  returned  wanderer  walks  as  one 
waked  from  the  dead.  How  soothing  and  how  happy 
it  would  be  could  I  but  return,  and  after  the  long 
weary  battle  of  life  rest  here  the  remainder  of  my 
days,  grow  young  with  age,  become  a  child  again,  and, 
lapped  by  my  first  surroundings,  lay  life  down  in 
nature's  arms  where  first  I  took  it  up.  Then  should 
my  hot  brain  be  cooled  by  the  cool  air  of  moonlights 
long  gone  by,  and  my  sinking  soul  revived  by  the 
sunlights  of  memjry  and  hope. 

Tlius  glided  magic,  mysterious  childhood.  Pass 
me  Hebe's  cup,  and  let  me  be  young  again,  that  I  may 
try  this  mystery  once  more. 


i; 


rj  i 


ion,  what 
od  home, 
11  the  an- 
G,  with  all 
vcs  round 
ildiug  joy 
day  with 
»eauty  are 
ks  as  one 
low  happy 

the  long 
ler  of  my 
Lgain,  and, 

down  in 
len  should 
noonlights 
ed  by  the 

od.     Pass 
hat  I  may 


CHAPTER    IV. 

THE  COUNTRY  BOY  BECOMES  A  BOOKSELLER. 

No  man  is  bom  into  the  world  whose  work  is  not  bom  with  him ;  there  is 
always  work  and  tools  to  work  withal,  for  those  who  will. 

Lowell, 

Crossing  a  muddy  street  one  rainy  day  on  her  way 
to  school,  my  eldest  sister,  dark- eyed  and  tender  of 
lioart,  encountered  a  sandy-haired  but  by  no  means 
ill-looking  youth,  who  made  way  for  her  by  stepping 
back  from  the  plank  which  served  pedestrians.  The 
young  man  was  a  member  of  the  Derby  familj'^  of  book- 
sellers, afterward  noted  for  their  large  establishments 
in  various  cities.  Of  course  these  two  young  persons, 
thus  thrown  together  on  this  muddy  crossing,  fell  in 
love ;  how  else  could  it  be  ?  and  in  due  time  were  mar- 
ried, vowing  thenceforth  to  cross  all  muddy  streets  in 
company,  and  not  from  opposite  directions.  And  in 
this  rain,  and  mud,  and  marriage,  I  find  another  of  the 
causes  that  led  me  to  embark  in  literature.  The 
marriage  took  place  in  1845,  when  I  was  thirteen 
years  of  age,  and  the  happy  couple  made  their  home 
in  Geneva,  New  York,  where  Mr  Derby  was  then 
doing  business.  Subsequently  he  removed  his  book- 
store and  family  to  Buftalo. 

On  our  return  from  the  land  of  milk  and  honey,  as 
we  at  first  soberly  and  afterward  ironically  called  our 
southern  prairie  home,  my  father  entered  into  copart- 
nership with  one  Wright,  a  tanner  and  farmer.  The 
tasks  then  imposed  upon  me  were  little  calculated  to 
give  content  or  yield  profit.  Mingled  with  my  school 
and  Sunday  duties,  interspersed  with  occasional  times 

1891 


90 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY  BECOMES  A  BOOKSELLER. 


if 


ill: 


for  shooting,  fishing,  swimming,  skating,  sleighing,  and 
nut  and  berry  gathering,  was  work,  such  as  grinding 
bark,  sawing  wood,  chopping,  clearing,  fencing,  milling, 
teaming,  ploughing,  planting,  harvesting,  and  the  like, 
wherein  I  could  take  but  little  interest  and  make 
no  progress,  and  which  consequently  I  most  heartily 
hated. 

To  my  great  delight,  a  year  or  two  after  the 
marriage  of  my  sister,  I  was  offered  the  choice  of 
preparing  for  college  or  of  entering  the  Buffalo  book- 
store. The  doctrine  was  just  then  coming  into  vogue 
that  in  the  choice  of  a  profession  or  occupation 
youthful  proclivities  should  be  directed,  but  the  youth 
should  not  be  coerced.  This,  within  the  bounds  of 
reason,  is  assuredly  the  correct  idea. 

Here  was  quite  a  modification  of  the  strait-laced  theo- 
ries prominent  in  this  community  in  morals  and  religion. 
Yet  in  spiritual  affairs,  those  pertaining  to  the  remote 
and  indefinite  future,  the  strictest  rules  of  conduct  were 
still  laid  down,  the  slightest  departure  from  which  en- 
tailed social  death.  Heaven  and  hell  remained  fixed 
in  their  respective  localities,  weighed  and  measured,  the 
streets  of  gold  laid  out,  and  the  boundaries  of  the  la  es 
of  sulphuric  fire  defined.  All  were  accurately  mapped, 
the  populations  were  given,  and  available  accommo- 
dations estimated  for  future  applicants.  Moreover, 
there  were  the  roads  plainly  distinguishable  to  the  one 
and  to  the  other,  the  one  narrow,  rugged,  and  grass- 
grown,  the  other  broad,  and  dusty  from  much  travel. 
This  the  parent  knew ;  of  it  he  was  sure  though  sure 
of  nothing  else ;  though  not  sure  of  anything  relating 
to  this  world,  such  as  the  earth,  the  trees,  his  senses, 
himself — for  so  his  parent  had  told  him,  and  his 
grandparent  had  told  his  parent,  and  so  on  back  to 
the  beginning,  and  therefore  it  must  be  so;  and  the 
heir  to  such  a  long  and  distinctly  defined  inheritance 
must  be  required  to  live  up  to  his  high  privileges. 
The  dim   and   indistinct  future  was   thus   by  faith 


PARENTS  AND  CHILDREN. 


M 


Is  senses, 


brought  near,  materialized,  measured,  and  fitted  to  the 
actions  of  every-day  life.  But  the  more  proximate 
and  practical  future  of  the  child,  that  alone  of  wliicli 
from  his  own  experience  the  parent  could  speak,  that 
which  might  teach  the  child  how  best  to  live  in  this 
world,  that  was  left  chiefly  to  the  rising  generation. 
In  other  words,  concerning  things  of  which  the  child 
knows  as  much  as  the  parent,  the  severest  ruh)s  of 
conduct  are  laid  down;  concerning  things  of  which  the 
child  knows  nothing,  and  of  which  the  parent,  by  tlie 
practical  experiences  of  his  life,  should  have  learned 
something,  profound  attention  must  be  paid  to  the 
opinions  of  the  child — as  if  the  vagaries  of  the  youth 
were  a  surer  guide  to  ultimate  success  than  the  maturer 
judgment  of  the  parent. 

In  ancient  times,  as  to  somr*  <^Ytent  at  present  in 
the  older  countries,  custom  forbade  children  any  wull 
of  their  own,  and  almost  my  identity;  till  nearly  of 
mature  age  they  were  kept  in  the  background,  hidden 
from  the  world  as  if  not  yet  born  into  it.  In  Spain 
the  son,  with  head  uncovered,  stands  speechless  in  the 
father's  presence  until  permission  be  given  him  to  sit 
or  speak,  and  the  daughter  is  kept  secluded  in  the 
nursery  or  confined  to  the  women's  special  part  of  the 
house  until  a  husband  is  brought  her  and  she  is  told 
to  marry.  Of  a  wealthy  Californian  lady  living  in 
Los  Angeles  I  was  told  that,  in  the  good  old  time 
when  Anglo-Americans  were  few  in  the  land,  at 
the  age  of  thirteen,  on  entering  the  church  one 
day  in  company  with  other  members  of  the  family, 
according  to  their  custom,  a  gentleman  was  pointed 
out  to  her  as  the  one  destined  to  be  her  husband; 
and  she  was  directed  by  her  father,  without  further 
notice,  to  step  up  to  the  altar  and  be  married,  which 
she  did  accordingly,  "thinking  nothing  of  it,"  as 
she  affirms.  In  France  and  elsewhere  it  is  some- 
what similar,  but  not  quite  so  bad.  Now,  and  par- 
ticularly in  new  and  rapidly  developing  countries, 
custom  in  this  regard  is  drifting  toward  the  opposite 


I'M 


92  THE  COUNTRY  BOY  BECOMES  A  BOOKSELLER. 

extreme.  In  the  eastern  states  of  America  there  is 
a  perpetual  loosening  of  parental  authority;  and  in 
California,  if  the  fathers  and  mothers  escape  entire 
overthrow  they  do  well.  The  wilful  maiden  who 
would  marry  the  unapproved  object  of  her  fancy 
steps  aboard  a  railway  train,  is  whisked  away  to  dis- 
tant parts,  and  soon  a  letter  comes  back  asking  par- 
don and  a  reconciliation,  which  are  usually  granted 
in  time.  Surely  simple  justice  would  seem  to  demand 
that  those  who  had  brought  a  daughter  into  being, 
nursed  her  through  infancy,  watched  over  her  in 
childliood,  tenderly  feeding  and  clothing,  educating 
and  loving  her,  should  have  their  wishes  and  their 
judgment  respected  in  so  important  a  step  as  mar- 
riage. None  should  marry  without  mutual  love.  The 
parent  has  no  right  to  compel  the  daughter  to  marry 
against  her  will;  neither  has  the  daughter  a  right  to 
marry  against  the  will  of  her  parents,  except  in  cases 
most  extreme.  There  should  be  love;  but  love  may 
be  directed.  It  is  not  necessary  when  falling  in  love 
to  fall  out  with  reason  and  common -sense.  Love 
based  on  judgment  is  the  only  sound  and  lasting  love. 
To  marry  for  wealth  is  the  most  contemptible  of  all, 
but  better  it  is  that  a  woman  should  sell  herself  for  so 
much  money  to  a  man  of  worth  than  fling  herself 
away  for  the  worthless  love  of  a  worthless  fellow.  It 
is  no  credit  to  a  good  woman  to  love  a  bad  man. 
Marry  for  love  as  you  live  by  your  conscience,  but 
let  it  be  an  enlightened  love,  neitlier  ignoble,  noi- 
base,  nor  heathenish.  Consult  the  eternal  fitness  of 
things;  let  the  worthless  mate,  but  let  not  the  girl 
of  cultivation,  beauty,  intelligence,  and  refinement 
throw  herself  away  on  a  brainless,  shiftless,  or  dis- 
solute young  man,  because  she  happens  to  fancy  the 
color  of  his  eyes  or  the  curl  of  his  mustache.  Antl 
of  this  fitness  who  is  the  better  judge,  thf  experi- 
enced parent,  solicitous  for  the  welfare  of  the  child, 
or  the  lovesick  girl,  fancy- ridden,  and  blinded  by 
passion   and    intriguing   arts?     The   days   for   blind 


THE  COMING  CALIFORNIANS. 


9S 


cupids  have  passed;  the  world  has  so  far  progressed 
that  the  son  of  Aphrodite  may  now,  with  safety  to 
the  race,  open  his  eyes. 

For  the  protection  of  worthy  unsophisticated  young 
men,  so  that  they  may  not  be  seduced  to  their  de- 
struction by  designing  maidens  or  their  mothers,  a 
Babylonian  marriage -market  would  not  be  out  of 
|)lace,  such  as  Herodotus  spoke  of,  where  young 
women  may  be  put  up  at  auction  and  sold  as  wives 
to  the  highest  bidder,  and  the  premium  brought  by 
the  beautiful  be  given  as  a  dowry  with  the  ill-favored, 
80  that  each  may  give  her  husband  either  beauty  or 
wealth,  for  there  should  be  equity  and  compensation 
in  all  such  dealings. 

In  all  this  the  fault  lies  chiefly  with  the  parents,  or 
with  the  state  of  society  in  which  the  family  dwells. 
The  young  may  be  reared  as  well  in  California  as  else- 
Avliere,  the  maidens  may  be  as  modest  and  the  young 
men  as  respectful,  but  in  a  new  community,  where  all 
is  liaste  and  freeness,  it  is  more  difficult  for  the  heads 
of  families  so  desiring  it  to  make  their  children  de- 
corous  and  retiring  than  in  older  and  more  settled 
states.  This,  however,  will  right  itself  in  time.  There 
is  no  place  in  the  world  where  the  rising  generation 
bids  fair  to  obtain  so  high  a  development  as  in  Cali- 
fornia; let  us  hope  that  simplicity,  refinement,  and 
respectful  obedience  may  accompany  it. 

A  wise  parent  will  study  the  idiosyncrasies  of  the 
child,  and  before  permitting  a  son  to  adopt  a  profession 
or  embark  in  a  pursuit  he  will  analyze  his  character 
and  consider  the  qualities  of  mind  and  body,  setting 
apart  temper,  mood,  and  talent,  one  from  the  other, 
and  then  determine  from  the  nature  and  quality  of 
the  material  before  him  what  sort  of  man,  under  given 
conditions,  it  will  make,  and  how  it  can  be  best  moulded 
and  directed  so  as  to  achieve  the  highest  success.  And 
it'  the  parent  is  correct  in  his  judgment,  and  the  child 
is  not  swayed  by  passion  or  prejudice,  both  will  ar- 
rive at  about  the  same  conclusion  as  to  what  is  best 


94 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY  BECOMES  A  BOOKSELLER. 


lOli 


to  be  done.  Talk  with  the  boy  about  his  future 
occupation,  and  with  the  girl  of  the  lover  whom  she 
would  make  her  husband;  then  let  the  parent  decide, 
and  not  the  child.  This  is  the  office  of  the  parent; 
to  this  end  young  men  and  maidens  were  given 
parents. 

The  two  courses  in  life  at  this  time  offered  me  were 
each  not  without  attractions,  and  for  a  time  I  hesitated, 
thinking  that  if  I  adopted  one  it  would  be  well,  and 
if  I  adopted  the  other  it  would  be  better.  Nor  should 
I  feel  much  more  competent  to  decide  a  similar  case 
at  present.  To  have  the  elements  of  success  within 
is  the  main  thing;  it  then  does  not  import  so  much 
in  what  direction  they  are  developed.  "Xon  quis,  sed 
quomodo;"  it  matters  little  what  one  does,  it  matters 
everything  how  one  does  it.  Napoleon  used  to  ask, 
" Qii'ost-ce  qu'il  a  fait?"  not  "Who  is  his  father?"  To 
be  a  good  brick-maker  is  infinitely  better  than  to  be 
a  bad  book-maker.  If  the  inherent  elements  of  suc- 
cess are  present  they  are  pretty  sure  to  find  a  channel. 
As  Ruskin  says  of  it,  "Apricot  out  of  currant,  great 
man  out  of  small,  did  never  yet  art  or  eflfort  make; 
and  in  a  general  way,  men  have  their  excellence  nearly 
fixed  for  them  when  they  are  born." 

Emerson  is  of  the  opinion  that  "each  man  has  his 
own  vocation.  The  talent  is  the  call.  There  is  one 
direction  in  which  all  space  is  open  to  him.  He  has 
faculties  silently  inviting  him  thither  to  endless  exer- 
tion. He  is  like  a  ship  in  the  river — he  runs  against 
obstructions  on  every  side  but  one;  on  that  side  all 
obstruction  is  taken  away,  and  he  sweeps  serenely 
over  God's  depths  into  the  infinite  sea.  This  talent 
and  this  call  depend  on  his  own  organization,  or  the 
mode  in  which  the  general  soul  incarnates  itself  in 
him."  And  more  beautifully  than  any  of  them  Jean 
Paul  Richter  remarks,  "Whoever  is  not  forced  by 
necessity,  but  feels  within  him,  growing  with  his 
growth,  an  inclination  and  declination  of  his  magnetic 


if 
I 


'i 


'--# 


R. 

'S  future 
hom  she 
it  decide, 
3  parent; 
re   given 


I  me  were 
lesitated, 
well,  and 
or  should 
nilar  case 
!ss  within 

so  much 

quis,  sed 
t  matters 
sd  to  ask, 
ler?"  To 
;han  to  be 
its  of  suc- 
channcl. 
lant,  great 

trt  make; 

ce  nearly 

in  has  his 
sre  is  one 

He  has 
lless  exer- 
ts ascainst 
it  side  all 

serenely 
liis  talent 
>n,  or  the 

itself  in 

iiem  Jean 

[breed  by 

with   his 

I  magnetic 


CONCERNING  A  CAREER. 


95 


needle,  let  him  follow  its  pointing,  trusting  to  it  as  to 
;i  compass  in  the  desert." 

This  marriage  of  my  sister's  changed  the  course  not 
only  of  my  own  destiny  but  of  that  of  every  member 
of  my  family.  It  was  the  hinge  on  which  the  gate 
swung  to  open  a  new  career  to  all  of  us.  Puritan 
Granville  was  a  good  place  to  be  reared  in,  but  it 
was  a  better  place  to  emigrate  from.  It  was  in  the 
world  but  not  of  the  world.  Success  there  would  be 
a  hundred  acres  of  land,  a  stone  house,  six  children, 
an  interest  in  a  town  store  or  a  grist-mill,  and  a  dea- 
consliip  in  the  church. 

But  how  should  I  decide  the  question  before  me? 
What  had  I  upon  which  to  base  a  decision?  Nothing 
but  my  feelings,  my  passions,  and  propensities — un- 
safe guides  enough  when  coupled  with  experience,  but 
absolutely  dangerous  when  left  to  shift  for  themselves. 
By  such  were  guided  the  genius  that  made  Saint  Just 
and  Robespierre,  Alcibiades  and  Byron,  Caligula  and 
Nero;  and  the  greater  the  talents  the  greater  the 
perversion  of  youthful  fire  and  intelligence  if  mis- 
directed. 

Mcrimee,  when  about  ten  years  of  age,  was  deceived 
by  his  elders,  whereupon  he  adopted  for  his  maxim, 
"Remember  to  distrust,"  and  retiring  within  himself 
he  incrusted  his  sensibilities  with  indifference  and 
maintained  a  cold  reserve  forever  after.  Yet  beneath 
tliis  cynical  crust  burned  love  and  sentiment,  burned 
all  the  fiercer  from  confinement,  and  finally  burst 
forth  in  his  Lcttres  a  line  inconnue,  whether  a  real  or 
a  mythical  personage  no  one  seemed  to  know.  In 
Ills  youth  he  had  lacked  wise  counsel  and  kind  con- 
siderate direction;  that  was  all. 

Study  had  always  strong  fascinations  for  me,  and 
the  thought  of  sometime  becoming  a  great  lawyer  or 
statesman  set  heart  and  head  rapturously  a-twirl.  I 
cannot  remember  the  time  when  I  could  not  read, 
rucite  the  catechism,  and  ride  and  drive  a  horse.  I 
am  told  that  I  was  quick  to  learn  when  young,  and 


96 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY  BECOMES  A  BOOKSELLER. 


that  at  the  age  of  three  years  I  could  read  the  New 
Testament  without  having  to  spell  out  many  of  the 
words.  If  that  be  true  the  talent  must  have  ended 
with  my  childhood,  for  later  on  taking  up  study  I 
found  it  almost  impossible  to  learn,  and  still  more 
difficult  to  remember,  whatever  talent  I  may  have 
possessed  in  that  direction  having  been  driven  out  of 
me  in  the  tread-mill  of  business. 

One  winter  I  was  sent  to  the  brick  school-house,  a 
rusty  red  monument  of  orthodox  efforts,  long  since 
torn  down.  There  presided  over  the  boys  at  one  time 
my  mother's  brother.  The  Howes  engaged  in  school- 
teaching  naturally,  they  and  their  children,  boys  and 
girls,  without  asking  themselves  why.  The  family 
have  taught  from  the  Atlantic  to  the  Pacific,  in  New 
York,  Ohio,  Iowa,  Nevada,  Oregon,  and  California. 
They  were  good  teachers,  and  they  were  good  for 
nothing  else.  Take  from  them  their  peculiar  knack 
of  imparting  knowledge  and  there  were  left  only  bones 
and  nerves  kept  in  motion  by  a  purposeless  brain. 
The  one  who  taught  in  'rranville  had  written  a 
grammar,  and  all  the  boys  were  compelled  to  study  it. 
It  consisted  chiefly  of  rules  which  could  not  be  under- 
stood, and  contained  little  of  the  kind  of  examples 
which  remained  fastened  in  the  mind  to  be  afterward 
of  practical  value.  It  is  safe  to  say  that  children  now 
learn  twice  as  much  with  half  the  trouble.  Tlien  the 
study  of  grammar  under  a  grammar- making  uncle  did 
me  little  good. 

Those  Howe  grammar  lessons  were  the  curse  of 
that  winter.  Often  I  wept  over  the  useless  and  dis- 
tasteful drudgery,  but  in  vain.  Tears  were  a  small 
argument  with  my  parents  where  they  deemed  duty 
to  be  concerned;  and  the  brother  made  my  mother 
believe  that  if  I  failed  in  one  jot  or  tittle  of  his 
grammar  there  would  be  no  hope  for  me  afterward 
in  any  direction.  Mathematics  I  enjoyed.  Stretched 
on  the  hearth  before  a  blazing  fire,  with  book  and 
slate,  I  worked   out  my  problems  during  the  long 


YOUTHFUL  ASPIRATIONS. 


97 


evenings,  and  then  took  the  Howe  grammar  lesson  as 
I  would  castor-oil. 

My  studies  were  mixed  with  house  and  barn  duties, 
sucli  as  paring  apples,  pounding  rusk,  feeding  and 
milking  the  cows,  and  scores  of  like  occupations.  Long 
before  daylight  I  would  be  called  from  my  slumber 
to  work  and  study,  a  summons  I  usually  responded 
to  with  alacrity.  Then  my  mother  called  me  good, 
and  my  home  life  was  happy.  Soon  after  breakfast, 
with  books,  and  tin  pail  well  stored  with  luncheon, 
I  was  out  into  the  snappish  air  and  over  the  hill  to 
scliool.  But  still  the  Howe  grammar  huni;  over  all 
my  joys  like  a  grim  shadow,  darkening  all  delights. 
For,  in  that  I  did  not  love  the  grammar,  the  Howe 
(lid  not  love  me,  and  he  made  the  place  exceedingly 
uncomfortable,  until  finally  my  mother  became  satis- 
fied that  I  was  injudiciously  and  unfairly  treated,  and 
to  my  great  joy  took  me  from  the  purgatory. 

I  was  passionately  fond  of  music,  not  so  much  of 
listening  as  performing.  The  intensest  aspirations 
of  my  life  seem  to  have  taken  this  form ;  I  longed  to  dt) 
rather  than  to  enjoy.  Purposeless  pleasure  was  not 
pkasant  to  me.  To-day  I  find  neither  satisfaction  nor 
profit  in  reading  or  writing,  or  doing  anything  for  my 
own  personal  enjoyment.  There  must  be  an  aim,  and 
a  liigh,  immediate,  and  direct  one,  if  in  my  doing  or 
being  I  am  to  find  pleasure. 

In  the  matter  of  music,  there  was  within  me  some- 
thing which  sighed  for  expression,  and  to  throw  it  off 
in  song  or  through  the  melodies  of  an  instrument  was 
the  simplest  method  of  relief  This  restless  desire  to 
unburden  my  breast  was  present  in  my  earliest  con- 
sciouHiiess.  It  was  always  in  some  way  stifled  in  my 
younger  days.  There  were  singing-schools  which  I 
could  and  did  attend,  but  bleating  in  concert  with  a 
class  of  boys  and  girls  was  not  what  I  wanted.  By 
saving  up  dimes  and  half-dollars  I  succeeded  in  buying 
an  (;ld  violin.  I  paid  four  dollars  for  it;  and  I  re- 
member with  what  trepidation  I  invested  my  entire 

Lit.  Ind.     7 


98 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY  BECOMES  A  BOOKSELLER. 


ilJ 


capital  in  the  instrument.  For  several  years  I  scraped 
persistently  and  learned  to  play  badly  a  few  vulgar 
tunes.  I  had  no  teacher  and  no  encouragement;  I  was 
laughed  at  and  frowned  at,  until  finally  I  abandoned 
it.  Fiddling  in  that  saturnine  society  was  almost  as 
much  a  sin  as  card-playing;  for  if  cards  were  for 
gamblers,  fiddles  were  for  dancers,  and  dancing  was  a 
devilish  pastime.  Christ  never  danced ;  andalthougli 
David  did,  our  minister  used  to  apologize  for  him  by 
saying  that  his  was  a  slow,  measured,  kingly  step, 
something  of  a  Shaker  dance — at  all  events  nothing 
like  the  whirling  embracements  of  these  later  times. 
To  return  to  the  matter  of  choosing  between  study 
and  business.  Finding  myself  possessed  of  these  and 
many  other  burning  aspirations,  without  stopping  to 
count  the  cost,  childlike  I  struck  at  once  for  the  prize. 
If  self-devotion  and  hard  study  could  win,  it  should 
be  mine.  So  I  chose  the  life  of  a  student,  and  spent 
another  year  in  preparing  for  college.  There  was  an 
academy  as  well  as  a  college  in  the  place;  indeed,  as 
I  have  before  remarked,  my  native  town,  in  its  way, 
was  quite  a  seat  of  learning. 

It  was  now  the  winter  of  1847-8,  and  bravely  I  set 
about  my  self-imposed  task,  studying  hard,  and  for  a 
time  making  fair  progress.  I  was  still  obliged  to  work 
morning  and  evening,  and,  with  now  and  then  a  holi- 
day, during  the  vacations.  I  was  much  alone  in  my 
studies,  although  I  attended  my  teacher  as  zealously 
as  if  I  had  been  under  competitive  influence.  My 
nearest  and  indeed  almost  the  only  companion  I  had 
at  this  time  was  my  cousin  Edgar  Hillyer,  afterward 
United  States  judge  for  Nevada.  In  age  he  was  a 
year  my  senior,  but  in  ability  and  accomplishments 
many  years.  He  was  a  good  student,  apt  in  debate, 
well  read  in  classical  literature,  nimble  on  the  violin, 
a  rollicking,  jolly  companion,  muscular,  active,  and 
courageous,  and  could  hold  his  own  with  the  best  of 
them  on  the  play-ground.     When  violin-playing  bc- 


•  t 


ALMIGHTY  MONEY. 


m 


'S! 


Ccame  fashionable  in  churches  he  sawed  away  at  a 
l)ase-viol  behind  the  church  choir,  reading  a  novel 
luidor  cover  of  his  huire  instrument  durins?  the  sermon. 
He  was  given  a  little  to  sarcasm  at  tunes,  which  cut 
me  somewhat;  otherwise  we  were  true  and  stanch 
tViends.  He  it  was  who  ailed  and  influenced  me 
more  than  any  other  in  many  things.  In  advance  of 
me  in  studies,  he  entered  colleije  and  I  was  left  alone. 
Still  I  toiled  on,  notwithstanding  occasional  letters 
IVom  Buffalo  which  tended  to  unsettle  my  plans.  Be- 
lore  the  time  for  entering  college  arrived  I  had  lost 
somewhat  of  my  interest  in  study:  without  the  stimu- 
lus of  sympathizing  friends  and  competition,  the  unfed 
fire  of  my  ambition  died  away. 

Meanwhile  Mr  Derby,  who  was  an  enthusiast  in  his 
l)usiness,  had  made  occasional  visits  to  my  father's 
liouse,  and  in  listeningf  to  his  conversation  1  became 
attracted  toward  Buffalo.  Thei'e  was,  moreover,  in  mo 
a  growing  desire  for  independence;  not  that  I  was 
dissatisfied  with  mv  home  so  nnicli  as  with  myself. 
1  longed  to  be  doinij  somethino:  that  would  show  re- 
suits;  I  wanted  to  be  a  man,  to  be  a  great  man,  to  be 
n  man  at  once.  The  road  to  learning  was  slow  and 
linrd;  besides,  my  father  was  not  rich,  and  although 
leady  to  deny  himself  anything  for  me,  I  could  see 
that  to  continue  my  plan  of  study  would  be  a  heavy 
tax  on  him.  Yet  I  loved  it,  and,  as  the  sequel  will 
si  low,  left  it  here  only  to  take  it  up  at  a  future  time. 
iN^ow  I  wanted  money,  I  felt  the  need  of  money,  and 
I  determined  to  have  money.  Not  to  hug  and  hoard, 
not  to  love  and  cherish  as  a  thing  admirable  in  itself, 
not  as  a  master  to  bid  me  fetch  and  carry  all  my  days, 
nor  as  a  god  to  fall  befoi-e  and  worship,  sealing  the 
heart  from  human  sympathy,  but  as  a  servant  to  do 
my  bidding,  as  an  Aladdin  lamp  to  buy  me  indepen- 
dence, leisure,  culture. 

Contented  poverty,  cheered  by  the  sweets  of  medi- 
tation and  the  play  of  intellect  in  friendly  converse, 
the  priceless  wealth  of  mind  drawn  freely  and  with- 


100 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY  BECOMES  A  BOOKSELLER. 


1^1 


.■\\ 


m 


out  cost  from  books,  which  are  the  world's  storehouse 
of  knowledge,  this  has  found  its  devotees  in  all  ages. 
Most  of  the  thousrhts  and  words  thus  ensrcndered  have 
been  idle;  some  little  of  such  intercourse,  however,  has 
been  productive  of  the  greatest  results. 

But  this  would  never  satisfy  me.  Mine  must  be  a 
fruitful  life,  as  I  have  said.  And  at  the  portal  of 
every  ambition,  even  of  intellectual  ambition,  if  it  bo 
high  or  rich  in  results,  at  the  door  of  every  soul 
aspiration,  of  every  taste  and  tendency,  of  every 
moral  and  social  sentiment,  stands  money.  Even  the 
doors  of  love,  and  of  heaven  itself,  are  opened  by 
money.  To  the  mere  money-grubber  intellectual  joys 
are  denied.  His  money  is  useless  to  him  when  he 
gets  it.  Of  his  scholarly  friend  Iccius,  who  sold  his 
library  and  went  to  Arabia  Felix,  the  El  Dorado  of 
the  day,  Horace  asked  if  it  was  true  that  he  grudged 
the  Arabs  their  wealth.  Like  many  a  scholar  in  Cali- 
fornia, this  Roman  Iccius  was  grievously  disappointed. 

How  marvellous  is  money  I  each  dollar  thrown  into 
the  mill  of  successful  business  becoming  the  grandsire 
of  many  dollars.  As  society  is  organized,  a  moneyless 
man  is  scarcely  a  man  at  all,  only  a  beast  of  burden, 
fortunate  if  he  attain  the  position  of  hireling,  even 
as  in  the  time  of  Socrates,  who  said,  "Nowada3^s 
he  is  wisest  who  makes  most  money."  In  common 
with  others,  this  moneyless  man  entered  the  world 
with  a  body  and  a  soul,  since  which  time  he  has 
made  no  addition  to  his  entity;  he  has  body  and  soul 
still,  perhaps  a  mind,  and  these  are  his  stock  in  trade 
on  which  he  must  subsist.  To  feed  his  senses  some- 
thing must  be  sold,  and  having  nothing  else  he  sells 
himself  He  may  sell  his  body  to  save  his  soul,  or 
sell  the  soul  to  save  the  body,  or  sell  intellect  to 
keep  the  rest  together.  To  all  our  great  cities,  from 
farm  and  hamlet,  mind  by  want  or  ambition  pinched 
is  driven  to  market,  offered  for  sale  to  the  highest 
bidder,  and  sold  and  slaughtered  like  cattle  in  the 
shambles.     Culture  and  refinement  are  for  sale;  and 


THE  PRICE  OF  INTELLECT. 


]01 


"■'I 


too  often,  as  Whipple  complains,  at  ruinously  low 
prices.  "To  a  man  of  letters,  especially,  who  may  be 
holding  off  in  hope  of  a  rise  in  the  article,  nothing 
can  be  more  irritating  than  the  frequent  spectacle  of 
authors  whose  souls  are  literally  'not  above  nine- 
pi'iiccs' — who  will  squander  honor,  truth,  perception 
of  t'liaracter,  sympathy  with  all  that  is  pure  and  high 
ill  ideal  being,  in  short,  a  writer's  whole  stock  in 
trade,  on  the  cunning  hucksters  of  ninepenny  pam- 
j)lilcts,  thus  running  the  risk  of  damnation  in  both 
woilds  for  the  paltriest  consideration,  when  a  little 
iudgment  might  have  given  them  the  chance  of  a  life, 
death,  and  burial  in  octavos." 

I  do  not  know  which  is  the  more  deplorable,  to  be 
w  Ithout  money  or  to  be  its  slave.  Money  is  the  best 
(if  servants,  but  the  worst  of  masters.  As  a  servant 
it  is  the  open  sesame  to  all  the  world,  the  master-key 
to  all  energies,  the  passport  to  all  hearts;  as  a  master 
it  is  a  very  demon,  warping  the  judgment,  searing  the 
conscience,  and  fossilizing  the  affections.  Wra|)pe(l 
l)y  <'old  Selene  in  an  eternal  slumber  deep  as  that 
of  Endymion,  its  victims  are  lost  to  the  beauties 
of  earth  and  the  glories  of  heaven.  Give  me  the  in- 
dependence, the  command  of  myself,  of  my  time,  my 
talents,  my  opportunities,  that  wealth  alone  can  give, 
but  save  me  from  the  gluttony  of  greed,  the  fetters  of 
avarice,  the  blind  lieastliness  and  intellectual  degrada- 
tion engendered  by  an  inordinate  heaping  up  of  riches. 

We  are  born  under  the  domination  of  nature,  serfs 
of  tlie  soil,  and  under  this  suzerainty  we  remain 
until  the  intellect  rises  up  and  to  some  extent  eman- 
^^■i[)atos  us.  Nevertheless,  like  crystals,  the  constitu- 
ents of  our  being  are  self-existent  and  perfect,  how- 
ever minute,  and  we  assume  volume  and  importance 
by  accretion  alone.  To  the  penniless  young  man 
who  would  cultivate  his  talents  and  make  something 
of  liimself  I  would  say,  at  the  outset  or  as  soon 
as  practicable,  get  money  wherewith  to  buy  time. 
Jliis   is    the   order   of   natural    progress:    first   the 


s/' 


102 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY  BECOMES  A  BOOKSELLER. 


physical  man,  then  the  intellectual.  Civilization 
(loL'S  not  bloom  on  an  empty  stomach.  Get  gold;  not 
like  the  one-eyed  Arimaspi,  who  could  see  nothing 
else,  but  accumulate  something,  however  little;  then 
shun  debt,  and,  altiiough  your  liberty  necessitates 
your  dining  on  a  crust  of  bread,  you  are  on  the  royal 
road  to  mutdiood.  It  matters  less  how  nmch  you 
have  than  that  you  have  something.  There  is  more 
(litlerence  between  a  thousand  dollars  and  nothing 
than  there  is  between  a  thousand  and  a  hundreil 
thousand.  There  is  such  a  thing  as  too  much  money. 
The  young  student  of  unlimited  wealth  and  liberty 
has  more  to  contend  with  in  holding  to  hia  purpose 
tlian  the  poorest  scholar,  for  the  temptation  to  spend 
and  enjoy  is  so  much  the  greater.  Too  much  wealth 
is  ])Overty:  too  much  wealth  leads  to  a  loss  of  time, 
of  heart,  of  head — the  only  true  wealth. 

Adopt  a  (tailing,  if  it  be  only  for  a  time,  and  labor 
in  it  for  your  liberty;  labor  diligently,  as  if  your  life 
depended  on  it,  as  indeed  it  does.  Sei've  that  you  may 
command.  Get  money,  but  get  it  only  in  order  that 
you  may  ransom  mind,  for  it  is  mind  antl  not  money 
that  makes  the  man.  As  Bulwer  says  of  it,  "  Keep  to 
the  calling  tliat  assures  a  something  out  of  which  vou 
may  extract  independence  until  you  are  independent. 
Give  to  tliat  calling  all  your  heart,  all  your  mind. 
If  I  were  a  hatter,  or  tailor,  or  butcher,  or  baker,  I 
should  resolve  to  consider  my  calling  the  best  in  the 
world,  and  devote  to  it  the  best  of  my  powers.  In- 
dependence once  won,  then  be  a  Byron  or  Scott  if 
you  can." 

This  competency,  moreover,  is  within  the  reach  of 
all  able-bodied  young  men.  It  consists  less  in  what 
one  has  than  in  what  one  need  have ;  less  in  large  rt.- 
sourcch'  than  in  moderate  desires.  It  takes  but  little, 
after  all,  to  satisfy  our  actual  requirements;  but  once 
embarked  upon  the  sea  of  artificial  wants  or  fancied 
necessities  and  there  is  no  haven.  He  who  earns  or 
has  an  income  of  a  dollar  a  day  and  spends  but  half 


ifIR* 


POVERTY  A  SIN. 


103 


'ivilization 
gold;  iKtt 
)o  nothing 
ittlo;  then 
eccssitates 
I  the  royal 
much  you 
ire  is  more 
id  nothing 
a  hundred 
ich  money, 
md  liberty 
lis  purpose 
)n  to  spend 
uch  wealth 
»ss  of  time, 

),  and  labor 
if  your  life 
lat  you  may 
order  that 
not  money 
,"  Keep  to 
which  you 
idependent. 
your  mind, 
or  baker,  I. 
)est  in  the 
lowers.    In- 
or  Scott  if 

le  reach  of 
ess  in  what 
in  large  re- 
3S  but  littlo, 
;s;  but  onto 
s  or  fancied 
dio  earns  or 
ds  but  half 


of  it  is  independent,  and  if  satisfied,  rich.  lie  wlio 
s|)t  lids  all  his  earnings  or  income  is  poor,  though  he 
has  a  thousand  dollars  a  day;  doubly  poor  is  he,  in 
that  he  must  needs  waste  his  life  to  spend  his  money. 
He  who  spends  all  is  the  slave  of  his  own  fortune; 
he  who  lays  by  something  every  day  is  always  his 
own  master.  And  more;  in  making  and  saving  there 
is  a  double  profit:  the  addition  of  skill  thus  called 
forth  to  one's  stock  of  experience,  and  the  addition  of 
money  thus  earned  to  one's  stock  of  cash;  this  point 
reached,  it  makes  a  vast  difference  whether  the  time 
at  one's  command  be  spent  in  fruitful  study,  which  costs 
nothing,  or  in  squandering  one's  accumulations,  which 
costs  time  and  too  often  yields  nervous  prostration  and 
niL'utal  debasement.  This  weaving  during  the  day, 
only  like  Penelope  to  unravel  at  night,  is  one  of  the 
N\  orst  features  attending  the  efforts  of  our  young  men. 
"  Qui  perd  peche."  He  who  loses,  sins.  Whether 
a  man  be  in  the  wrong  or  not,  if  unsuccessful  he  is 
blamed.  But  no  man  in  this  age  is  uniformly  and 
jtermanently  unsuccessful  unless  there  be  something 
wrong  about  him,  some  glaring  imperfection  of  com- 
position or  character.  The  rule  is  that  success  at- 
tends merit;  the  unsuccessful  is  pretty  sure  to  be 
iliulty.  No  one  has  a  right  to  be  poor  in  California. 
Unaccompanied  by  ill  health  or  other  misfortune, 
poverty  is  a  sin.  It  is  true  that  wealth  is  not  always 
a  mark  of  merit.  Jove  made  Plutus,  the  god  of 
Avealth,  blind,  so  that  he  should  not  discern  knaves 
i'nnn  honest  men.  Nevertheless,  no  boy  or  man  true 
to  liimself,  who  does  his  duty,  laboiing  with  his  hands, 
or  head,  or  both,  as  God  ordains  that  men,  and  beasts, 
and  birds  alike  shall  labor,  practising  meanwhile  rea- 
sonable economy,  will  for  any  length  of  time,  except 
ui)dcr  extraordinary  circumstances,  remain  depend- 
ent. Though  born  naked,  providence  furnishes  the 
means  wherewith  to  clothe  ourselves.  If  we  refuse 
to  stretch  forth  our  hands  and  make  use  of  them,  we 

In  all  this  I  am  speaking  of 


lightly  suffer  for  it. 


IM 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY  BECOMES  A  BOOKSELLER. 


8iin])lc  iiulopcntloncc,  rather  than  success  and  failure 
rosultuiLf  from  attenijjts  to  achieve  {^reat  things,  to 
which  1  shall  have  occasion  to  allude  hereafter. 

Thus  unsettled  in  my  mind  hy  the  allurements  of 
active  business  and  city  lil'e,  my  attention  distracted 
from  studies,  discontented  in  the  thouj^ht  of  plodding 
a  poverty-stricken  path  to  fame,  and  unwilling  to 
hurden  my  father  for  a  term  of  years,  1  asked  and 
obtained  leave  to  enter  the  shop;  selling  books,  for 
the  nonce,  offering  stronger  attractions  than  studying 
them. 

Nor  am  I  now  disposed  to  cavil  over  the  wisdom  of 
my  final  decision.  Connncrcial  and  industrial  training 
offers  advantages  in  the  formation  of  mind,  as  well  as 
scientific  and  literary  traininsf.  School  is  but  a  mental 
gvnniasium.  Little  is  there  learned  except  the  learn- 
in<'  how  to  learn:  and  the  sysicm  that  aims  at  this 
gymnastic  exercise  of  mind,  rather  than  cramming, 
is  the  best.  He  who  studies  most  does  not  always 
learn  most,  nor  is  he  who  reads  most  always  the 
best  read.  Understanding,  and  not  cramming,  is 
education.  Learn  how  to  form  opinions  of  your 
own  rather  than  fill  your  head  with  the  opinions  of 
others.  What  a  farce  it  is,  on  commencement  or 
examination  day,  to  i:)arade  a  crowd  of  boys  or  girls, 
after  three  or  four  years'  skimming  through  school- 
books,  upon  a  stage  before  friends  and  spectators,  and 
with  music  and  flourish  of  trunijiets  to  make  a  grand 
display  of  their  acquirements,  and  end  )y  giving  them 
a  certificate  of  learning  which  shall  fc  -ever  after  set 
at  rest  the  question  of  their  educatio  '  When  just 
ready  to  begin  to  learn,  the  diploma  iitimates  that 
their  studying  days  are  over;  those,  onsequently, 
who  make  the  loudest  noise  on  exhibi  on  days  are 
seldom  heard  from  afterward.  Even  i  in  following 
a  collegiate  course  the  student  learns  fairly  well  how 
to  study,  if  this  acquisition  is  not  combined  with 
habits  of  industry  and  application  it  avails  little. 


EDUCATION  AND  PROFESSIONS. 


100 


4 


In  regard  to  education,  there  is  too  much  teaching 
fioni  books  and  too  httle  from  nature.  liooks  are 
usi'ful  to  sui)[)lement  the  instructions  of  nature,  not 
to  forestall  them.  Early  training  should  he  such  as  to 
instil  a  taste  for  study,  rather  than  a  studying;  such 
as  teaches  how  to  learn,  rather  than  an  attempt  to 
a('(|uiro  knowledge.  This  done,  that  is,  the  taste  ac- 
(jnircd  and  the  knowledge  how  to  get  knowledge 
giiiiiod,  every  hour  of  life  thereafter  will  be  a  gar- 
ni ring  of  knowledge.  Hence  if  I  might  have  another 
cliaiu'e  at  life,  with  my  present  ideas  I  would  pay  the 
most  careful  attention  to  three  things:  I  would  bend 
all  the  powers  within  me  to  learn  how  to  think,  how 
to  write,  and  how  to  speak,  for  I  could  then  command 
nivsi'lf  and  others.     The  hiixhcst  teachinijs  are  those 

i^  CD  ~ 

of  truth;  the  highest  morality  that  which  springs 
fnjui  simple  truth.  To  love  the  right  for  its  own 
sake  is  the  only  sure  ground  on  which  to  build  a 
uioiid  fabric.  To  hate  knavery,  licentiousness,  and  all 
ini(iuity  because  they  are  hateful,  because  they  arc 
low,  vulgar,  debasing,  and  misery-breeding — this  is  a 
liL'althful  and  hopeful  moral  ideal. 

In  business,  plodding  industry  and  steady  apj)lica- 
tion  lie  at  the  foundation  of  all  success.  Though  in  an 
economic  sense  credit  is  not  capital,  in  a  connncrcial 
sense  it  is.  Brilliant  talents  and  extraordinary  shrewd- 
ness as  often  outwit  the  possessor  as  others.  There 
is  no  field  in  commerce  for  a  great  display  of  genius. 
To  buy,  and  sell,  and  get  gain  is  the  object;  he  who 
fancies  himself  a  prophet  able  to  solve  business  rid- 
dl(.'s  of  the  future  becomes  a  gambler,  and  oftencr 
loses  than  wins.  Speculation  there  may  bo,  but  it 
nuist  be  speculation  backed  by  capital,  and  conducted 
on  sound  business  principles  rather  than  on  ilights  of 
i'ancy  or  theoretical  schemes. 

Though  few  trades  are  without  their  tricks,  the  in- 
dustrial life,  on  the  whole,  tends  to  accuracy  and 
Veracity.  The  man  of  business  adopts  honesty  as  a 
calling;  it  is  at  once  the  capital  he  employs  in  buying 


Ui'l 


106 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY  BECOMES  A  BOOKSELLER. 


and  the  guaranty  he  ofters  in  sching.  Wealth  being 
the  object  sought,  character  is  credit,  and  credit  money. 
No  merchant  can  long  cheat  his  customers  and  live; 
no  manufacturer  can  make  and  sell  a  spurious  article 
for  any  length  of  time.  Dishonesty  in  business  not 
only  does  not  pay,  but,  if  continued,  it  is  certain  and 
absolute  ruin.  Trustworthiness  usually  attends  ap- 
plication. Among  the  laboring  classes,  as  a  rule, 
skilful  workmen  are  moral  men.  The  habits  neces- 
sarily growing  out  of  continuous  mental  or  physical 
application  are  such  as  promote  moral  growth.  He 
who  is  deeply  occupied  in  a  worthy  calling  has  little 
time  for  wickedness. 

The  political  life,  on  the  other  hand,  tends  to  arti- 
fice and  circumvention  as  the  Lases  of  success  in 
that  directicm.  All  is  fair  in  war,  and  while  honor 
must  be  maintained  among  thieves,  opposite  parties 
and  the  public  may  be  lleeced  with  impunity.  The 
conscience  of  a  merchant  is  in  his  pocket,  that  of  a 
politician  is  in  his  popularity;  with  the  one  interest 
is  almost  always  identical  with  h<^nor,  but  with  the 
other  success  is  oftener  the  result  of  chicanery  or 
bribery  than  of  honest  merit.  And  yet  it  does  not 
s])eak  well  for  commerce  when  we  see  the  leading 
manufacturers  of  the  United  States  combining  for 
purposes  of  wholesale  bribery,  and  merchants  gener- 
ally allowing  officials  commissions  on  goods  bought  for 
the  government. 

At  an  early  date  in  his  public  career  Cicero  dis- 
covered that  the  people  of  Home  had  dull  ears  but 
sharp  eyes.  The  unprecedented  honors  devised  for 
him  by  the  Sicilians  were  little  talked  of  at  Rome, 
whereuiion  he  determined  that  thenceforth  the  eyes 
of  the  Romans  sliould  ever  behold  him.  Daily  ho 
fre(]ncnted  the  Forum;  no  one  was  denied  admit- 
tance at  his  gate,  and  even  sleep  was  never  made  an 
excuse  for  not  granting  an  audience.  In  this  Cicero 
was  serving  Cicero  and  not  Rome.  If  they  were 
seized,  tlieso  worthy  patriots,  with  honesty  enough  to 


altli  being 
(lit  money. 
5  and  live; 
ous  article 
isiness  not 
sertain  and 
ttends  ap- 
as  a  rule, 
bits  ncces- 
3r  physical 
:>wtli.  He 
r  has  Uttlo 

nds  to  arti- 
siicccss   in 
^hile  honor 
site  parties 
niity.    The 
:,  that  of  a 
)ne  interest 
it  with  the 
licanery  or 
it  does  not 
the  leading 
nbining  for 
mts  <j,i'ner- 
bought  for 

Cicero  dis- 
till ears  but 
devised  for 
f  at  Rome, 
th  the  eyes 
Daily  he 
mied  admit- 
er  made  an 
this  Cicero 
they  were 
y  enough  to 


POLITICS  AND  THE  REMEDY. 


107 


say  with  Voltaire,  "Le  neuplo  n'est  rien,"  immedi- 
ately their  occupation  was  gone.  Theirs  is  not  the 
simple  ingenuous  love  that  makes  the  land  their 
foils  ct  origo,  the  soil  that  fostered  them  their  parent. 
Neither  is  it  love  of  countrymen  or  loyalty  to  rulers. 
There  is  no  passion  in  their  patriotism. 

Our  country  is  not  ruled  by  its  best  and  wisest  men, 
nor  under  its  present  regime  will  it  ever  be.  The  good 
and  wise  are  few;  the  irrational  and  prejudiced  are 
many,  an<l  as  long  as  the  majority  rule,  office  can  be 
obtained  only  by  pandering  to  the  lower  passions.  In 
this  senseless  display  of  party  pride  and  prejudice, 
which  men  call  patriotism,  it  is  not  liberty  itself  that 
is  worshipped,  but  the  tinsel  and  paraphernalia  of 
liberty.  As  in  the  cunning  days  of  sleek  lago,  pre- 
Ici'ment  goes  by  letter  and  affection,  and  not  by  fair 
gradations  where  each  second  stands  heir  to  the  iirst. 

0[)posing  parties  are  a  necessity  in  any  free  politi- 
cal system ;  not  because  one  side  is  better  or  worse  than 
tlie  other,  but  as  stimulants  to  advancement,  checks 
on  premature  progress,  and  as  a  means  of  preventing 
that  demoralization  whicli  always  attends  unlimited 
or  irresponsible  power.  But  the  machinery  of  gov- 
ernment must  be  worked  on  some  other  principles  than 
those  of  lying  and  cheating  before  it  can  be  very  W'or- 
shii)ful.  The  people,  who  are  the  government,  n^nst 
awalvc  and  act.  The  wildest  delusion  of  our  day  is 
that  good  legislation  can  come  from  the  rej)resenta- 
tives  of  an  ignorant  and  immoral  peo[)ie,  wIkj  at  pres- 
ent are,  to  a  great  extent,  our  voters;  or  than  ar.^uing 
with  the  bad  aijfents  of  a  bad  tjovernment  will  make 
them  better.  "Opinions  are  numbered,  not  wcMghed," 
said  Pliny,  "there  is  nothing  so  une(|ual  as  equality." 
Tile  specious  fallacy  of  universal  sull'rage  was  better 
understood  by  the  Romans  than  by  us,  it  seems.  This 
state  of  things  will  cease  only  when  politics  cease  to 
he  a  trade  followed  for  gain,  and  wdien  both  the  trade 
and  tlie  hucksters  who  follow  it  shall  be  di^^graced  in 
the  eyes  of  all  good  men.    Before  our  government  can 


108 


THE  COUXTRY  BOY  BECOMES  A  BOOKSELLER. 


»\ 


t 


h 


I' 

1 1 


settle  upon  an  enduring  foundation  it  must  be  reeon- 
Htructed  in  form  and  in  execution.  Young  as  it  is  the 
elements  of  decay  are  plainly  apparent;  our  popular 
liberty  is  being  consumed  by  wliat  it  feeds  on.  But 
before  the  end  there  will  be  wars,  political  and  com- 
mercial wars,  for  the  people  will  not  always  submit  to 
tLe  tyranny  of  monopoly,  iniquitous  trusts,  and  otiier 
im{)ositions  of  combined  capital.  More  than  once  in 
the  history  of  despotism  liave  the  feuds  of  Konian 
Orsini  and  Colonna,  of  Grecian  IsauoraidjD  and  Ale- 
niieonidie,  given  birth  to  freedom.  "A  su[)eri()r  man 
indeed  is  Kea  Pil?yuhl"  says  Confucius;  "when  a 
good  government  prevails  in  his  state,  he  is  to  be 
found  in  office.  Wlien  a  bad  government  prevails, 
he  can  roll  his  principles  up  and  keep  them  in  his 
breast." 

What  in  these  latter  days  ^should  be  the  prayer  of 
the  patriot  having  the  true  interests  of  America  and 
of  mankind  at  heart?  From  our  fi'iends,  from  those 
who  woidd  serve  us,  wlio  would  lay  their  invaluable 
lives  on  the  altar  of  their  country,  I'rom  political  dema- 
gogues, political  libertinism,  political  peculation,  from 
excess  of  voting  and  constant  I'otation  in  office,  i'rom 
legislators  who  spend  in  personal  and  party  strife, 
to  keep  themselves  in  office,  the  people's  time  and 
money  which  should  be  spent  in  the  study  of  the 
nation's  welfare — fi'om  cant  and  cori'uption  of  every 
kind,  good  Lord  deliver  us!  particularly  from  the 
humbug  and  hypocrisy  of  political  journals;  ay, 
from  the  journals  themselves,  as  well  as  from  the 
j)arties,  and  principles,  and  persons  they  advocate, 
deliver  us,  we  beseech  thee,  lest  we  be  tempted  with 
'The  Man  without  a  Countrv'  to  exclaim,  "Danm 
the  United  States !"  The  politician  is  usually  as  lean 
as  Cassius  in  patriotism,  and  as  hungry  for  [)lace. 
The  professional  man,  if  with  his  broader  philosopiiy 
and  deeper  insight  into  certain  secret  phases  of 
human  nature  lie  escape  laxity  in  great  things,  and 
exaggeration  in  little  things,  does  well. 


;.  * 


THE  MENTAL  DISCIPLINE  OF  OTMMERCE. 


100 


The  law  as  a  profession  holds  i^p  its  glittering  prize 
to  the  youth  burning  for  distinction.  Its  labors  ai'o 
arduous;  its  fortunes  precarious.  One  in  a  hundred, 
perhaps,  attains  some  degree  of  local  eminence;  not 
one  in  a  thousand  achieves  a  national  reputation; 
ninety-five  of  every  hundred  secure  in  return  for  long 
and  expensive  preparation  nothing  further  than  a  life 
of  drudgery,  fortunate,  indeed,  if  they  escape  disrepu- 
tal^le  penury. 

In  the  commercial  spirit  there  are  two  oppugnant 
t'lcnionts,  boldness  and  conservatism,  which  underlii' 
all  advancement,  and  act  as  powerful  stimulants  in  tlio 
strongtliening  and  developing  of  mind.  These  prop- 
erly united  and  nicely  balanced  produce  the  liighest 
type  of  intellect,  whether  for  action  in  the  field  of  coni- 
morcc,  or  of  law,  or  of  letters.  In  the  absence  of 
cither  quality,  or  if  disproportionately  joined,  discom- 
fiture is  inevitable.  The  industrial  spirit,  pcrliaps 
more  perfectly  than  the  professional,  engenders  pa- 
tience, sobriety,  self-control,  which  tend  to  thrift  and 
respectability;  at  the  same  time  there  can  be  no  great 
things  accomplished  in  business  without  risk  or  spec- 
ulation. Now,  the  principles  that  lead  to  success  are 
identical  in  all  human  activities,  in  letters,  law,  and 
philosophy,  as  well  as  in  industry  and  conmierce — 
originality  of  thought,  a  letting-fly  of  the  imagination, 
a  lestless  impatience  over  meaningless  forms  and 
( inpty  traditions,  and  bold  independence  in  action 
united  with  caution  and  a  love  of  truth  for  truth's 
sake.  Speculation  and  conservatism:  the  one  the 
in-opclling  power  which  sends  forward  the  machine, 
tlio  other  the  brake  that  saves  it  from  destruction. 
One  is  as  necessary  as  the  other;  and  the  two  prop- 
erly united,  under  ordinary  circumstances,  are  as 
••'rtain  to  achieve  success  as  the  absence  of  these  con- 
ditions is  certain  to  result  in  failure. 


About  the  1st  of  August,  1848,  I  left  Granville 
tor  Buffalo,  where  I  arrived  on  the  9th.     I  was  now 


no 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY  BECOMES  A  BOOKSELLER. 


sixteen  years  of  age,  and  this  may  be  regarded  as  my 
starting  out  in  life.  Then  I  left  my  father's  house, 
and  ever  since  have  I  been  my  own  master,  and  made 
my  own  way  in  the  world.  There  was  no  railway  from 
my  native  town,  and  my  journey  was  made  in  a  canal- 
boat  as  far  as  Cleveland,  and  thence  by  steam-boat 
over  Lake  Erie  to  Buffalo.  The  captain  of  the  canal- 
boat  was  a  brother  of  my  uncle  Hillyer,  and  permission 
was  given  me  to  ride  horse  on  the  towpath  in  lieu  of 
paying  fare.  I  gladly  availed  myself  of  the  oppor- 
tunity, and  took  my  turn  night  and  day  during  the 
whole  journey.  The  day  after  my  arrival  in  Buffalo 
I  was  permitted  a  view  of  the  bookseller's  shop.  It 
would  not  be  regarded  as  much  of  a  store  nowadays, 
but  it  was  the  largest  establishment  I  had  ever  seen, 
and  the,  to  me,  huge  piles  of  literature,  the  endless 
ranges  of  book-shelves,  the  hurrying  clerks,  the  austere 
accountants,  the  lord  paramount  proprietor,  all  filled 
me  with  awe  not  unaccompanied  by  heart-sinkings. 
A  day  or  so  was  spent  in  looking  about  the  city,  accom- 
panying my  sister  to  the  market,  and  attending  a  great 
political  convention  which  was  then  in  full  blast.  On 
the  Monday  following  my  arrival  I  was  put  to  work 
in  the  bindery  over  the  counting-room,  and  initiated 
into  the  mysteries  of  the  book  business  by  folding  and 
stitching  reports  of  the  aforesaid  convention.  There  1 
was  kept,  living  with  my  sister,  and  undergoing  in  thi' 
shop  a  vast  amount  of  unpalatable  though  doubtless 
very  necessary  training,  till  the  following  October,  when 
the  bindery  was  sold.  I  was  then  left  for  a  time  in  an 
uncertain,  purgatorial,  purposeless  state,  with  noth- 
ing in  particular  to  occupy  me.  After  being  given 
plainly  to  understand  by  my  brother-in-law  that  my 
person  was  not  at  all  necessary  to  his  happiness,  I  was 
finally  thrust  into  the  counting-house  at  the  foot  of 
the  ladder,  as  the  best  means  of  getting  rid  of  me. 

The  fact  is,  I  was  more  ambitious  than  amiable,  and 
my  brother-in-law  was  more  arbitrary  than  agree- 
able.    I    was    stubborn    and    headstrong,    impatient 


■4 


ATTEMPT  AT  BUSINESS. 


Ill 


?d  as  my 
s  house, 
nd  made 
vay  from 
a  canal - 
3am -boat 
tic  canal- 
;rmission 
in  lieu  of 
e  oppor- 
irlng  the 
1  Buffalo 
shop.    It 
owadays, 
ver  seen, 
3  endless 
10  austere 
all  filled 
-sinkings. 
ly,  accom- 
ig  a  great 
ast.     On 
to  work 
initiated 
ding  and 
There  I 
mg  in  tlu! 
doubtless 
3er,\vhen 
ime  in  an 
ith  noth- 
ing given 
that  my 
ess,  I  was 
le  foot  of 
of  me. 
iable,  and 
Ian  agree - 
impatient 


1 


,   I 


I  I 


under  correction,  chafing  over  every  rub  against  ray 
country  angularities;  he  distant,  unsympathizing, and 
injudicious  in  his  management  of  me.  I  felt  that  I 
was  not  understood,  and  saw  no  way  of  making  my- 
self known  to  him.  Any  attempt  to  advance  or  to 
rise  above  the  position  first  assigned  me  was  frowned 
down;  not  because  he  hated,  or  wished  to  injure,  or 
persecute  me,  but  because  he  thought  boys  should 
not  be  presumptuous,  that  they  should  be  kept  in  the 
l)a('kground — especially  pale,  thin,  thoughtful,  super- 
sensitive brothers-in-law. 

For  some  six  months  I  held  this  anomalous  posi- 
tion, till  one  day  the  chief  book-keeper  intimated  to 
nie  that,  in  the  opinion  of  the  head  of  the  house, 
nature  liad  never  designed  me  for  a  bookseller — a 
species  of  divinity  in  the  eyes  of  these  men  born  but 
not  made — and  that  should  I  retire  from  active  duty 
no  one  about  the  premises  would  be  overwhelmed 
witli  sorrow.  In  plain  English,  I  was  discharged. 
The  blood  which  mantled  my  face  under  a  sense  of 
what  I  deemed  indignity  and  wrong  was  my  only  re- 
s})()nse;  yet  in  my  heart  I  was  glad.  I  saw  that  this 
"was  no  place  for  me,  that  my  young  life  was  being 
turned  to  wormwood,  and  that  my  bosom  was  be- 
coming a  hell  of  hatefulness. 

I  have  never  in  my  life,  before  that  time  or  since, 
entertained  a  doubt  of  reasonable  success  in  any  rea- 
sonable undertakinj?.  I  now  determined  to  start  in 
husniess  on  my  own  account.  Since  I  could  not  work 
for  the  Buffalo  bookselling  people,  I  would  work  for 
myself.  I  was  entirely  without  money,  having  re- 
ceived nothing  for  my  services — which  indeed  were 
\vortli  nothinsT — vct  I  borrowed  enou2rh  to  take  me 
h.rk  to  Ohio,  and  Mr  Derby,  it  appears,  had  suffi- 
cient confidence  to  trust  me  for  a  few  cases  of  goods. 
Shipping  my  stock  up  the  lake  to  Sandusky,  and 
thence  by  rail  to  Mansfield,  the  terminus  of  the  road, 
I  hurried  on  to  Granville  for  a  horse  and  wagon, 
with  which  I  proceeded  back  to  Mansfield,  loaded  up. 


112 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY  BECOMES  A  BOOKSELLER. 


W  'i 


and  began  distributing  my  goods  among  the  country 
merchants  of  that  vicinity.  For  about  four  months 
I  travelled  in  this  manner  over  different  parts  of 
my  native  state,  selling,  remitting,  and  ordering  more 
goods,  and.  succeeding  in  the  main  very  well;  that  is 
to  say,  I  paid  my  ex})enses,  and  all  the  obligations  I 
had  before  contracted,  and  had  enough  left  to  buy  a 
silver  watch,  and  a  suit  of  black  broadcloth.  Never 
was  watch  like  that  watch,  fruit  as  it  was  of  my  first 


commercial  earnings. 


Winter  approaching,  I  sold  out  my  stock,  paid  my 
debts,  and  went  home.  Owing  to  my  success,  it  seems, 
I  had  risen  somewluit  in  the  estimation  of  the  Buffalo 
book  magnates,  and  just  as  my  mind  was  made  up  to 
enter  school  for  the  winter  I  was  summoned  back  to 
Buffalo,  with  instructions  to  bring  my  youngest  sister, 
Mary,  afterward  Mrs  Trevett.  We  embarked  at 
Sandusky,  encountering  the  first  night  out  a  storm, 
and  after  beating  about  among  the  short  jerky  waves 
of  the  lake  for  two  da3's,  we  reached  Buffalo  on  the 
8th  of  ])ecember,  1841).  This  time  I  was  to  enter 
the  store  as  a  recognized  clerk,  and  was  to  receive  a 
salary  of  one  hundred  dollars  a  year  from  the  first  of 
January,  1850. 

I  now  began  to  look  upon  myself  as  quite  a  man. 
A  hundred  dollars  vvas  a  great  deal  of  money ;  I  was 
over  seventeen  years  of  age,  had  travelled,  had  been 
in  business,  and  was  experienced.  So  I  relaxed  a  little 
from  puritanical  ideas  of  propriety.  I  bought  a  high 
hat  and  a  cane;  smoked  now  and  then  surreptitiously 
a  cigar;  a  gaudy  tie  adorned  my  neck,  and  a  flashy 
ring  encircled  my  finger.  I  do  not  think  I  ever  held 
myself  in  higher  estimation  before  or  since;  at  no 
time  of  my  life  did  I  ever  presume  so  much  on  my 
knowhvlge,  or  present  personally  so  fine  an  appear- 
ance. )n  the  street  I  fancied  all  eyes  to  be  upon 
me;  i  mrh  particularly,  I  used  to  think,  were  all 
in  love  v  ith  me. 

Honored  and  trusted,  my  moroseness  evaporated  at 


GEORGE  n.  DERBY. 


113 


Intervals.  Soon  I  found  myself  more  in  sympathy 
witli  my  employer,  and  felt  that  he  now  began  some- 
what to  understand  mc.  And  here  I  will  pay  my 
tribute  of  respect  to  the  memory  of  George  H.  Derby. 
He  was  of  unblemished  reputation,  thoroughly  sound 
in  morals,  sincere  in  religion,  honest  in  his  business, 
kind  in  his  family,  warm  and  lovable  in  his  friend- 
ships, patriotic  as  a  citizen,  and  liberal,  chivalrous, 
and  high-spirited  as  a  man  and  a  gentleman.  He  was 
among  the  best  friends  I  ever  had — he,  and  his  wife, 
my  sister.  He  seemed  to  repose  the  utmost  confidence 
in  me,  trusted  me,  a  green  boy  in  the  midst  of  the 
\v])irlpool  of  the  Californian  carnival,  with  property 
which  he  could  ill  afford  to  lose,  the  risk  being  re- 
i;ardcd  as  little  less  than  madness  on  his  part  by 
business  acquaintances.  His  death  I  felt  more  keenly 
the-  that  of  any  other  man  wdio  ever  died.  His 
H'oodness  will  remain  fresh  in  my  memory  to  my  dying 
(lay.  Yet,  when  thrown  together  as  under  our  first 
lulations — he  the  master,  I  the  boy — our  dispositions 
iuid  natures  were  strangely  out  of  tune.  He  held  his 
own  peculiar  views  regarding  the  training  and  treat- 
ment of  relatives.  He  seemed  to  delight  in  squeezing 
and  tormenting,  in  a  business  way,  all  who  were  in 
any  wise  allied  to  him  by  blood  or  marriage,  and  the 
iiuaior  the  relationship  the  greater  the  persecution. 
Of  a  didactic  turn  in  all  his  relations,  he  was  particu- 
larly severe  with  me ;  and  it  was  only  when  a  younger 
1)1  other  of  his  was  with  him,  one  nearer  to  him  than  I, 
and  on  whom  his  merciless  words  were  showered,  that 
1  found  relief  While  but  a  child,  and  before  I  went 
to  Buffalo,  or  had  ever  been  away  from  home,  I  was 
sent  into  the  backwoods  of  Ohio  to  obtain  subscrip- 
tions for  a  work  on  the  science  of  government.  Of 
course  I  made  a  failure  of  it,  enduring  much  head 
isickncss  and  heart  sickness  therebv,  and  was  laughed 
'  scorn  as  a  youth  who  would  never  succeed  at  any- 
thing. My  father,  totally  inexperienced  in  the  book 
business,  but  having  a  little  money  wherewith  to  make 

Lit.  Ind.    8 


114 


THE  COUXTRY  BOY  BECOMES  A  BOOKSELLER. 


the  purchase,  was  induced  to  take  a  cargo  of  books 
down  the  Mississippi  river,  whicli  proved  to  be  another 
faihire  and  a  severe  loss.  In  all  this  my  brother-in-law 
seemed  to  care  little  so  long  as  he  sold  his  wares  and 
secured  the  money.  All  were  fish,  friend  or  foe,  that 
helped  to  swell  the  volume  of  his  business. 

With  a  sister  ever  kind  to  me,  and  an  employer 
really  desirous  of  advancing  my  best  interests,  the 
training  I  underwent  at  this  period  of  my  life  was 
about  as  injudicious  for  an  ambitious,  sensitive  youtli 
af,  could  well  have  been  devised.  Even  after  my  re- 
turn from  Ohio  I  was  at  times  headstrong,  impatient 
of  restraint,  impudent,  angry,  and  at  open  war  with 
my  brother-in-law;  yet  I  was  eager  to  learn,  quick, 
and  intelligent,  and  M'ould  gladly  have  worked,  early 
and  late,  with  faithful  and  willing  diligence  in  any  ad- 
vancing direction.  But  it  seemed  that  my  employer 
still  considered  it  best  for  me  to  be  kept  down;  to  l)o 
censured  much  and  never  praised;  to  have  one  after 
another  placed  above  me  whom  I  very  naturally 
<!eemed  no  more  capable  than  myself  The  conse- 
quence was  that  during  the  greater  part  of  my  stay 
in  Buffalo  I  was  in  a  sullen  state  of  mad  exasperation. 
I  was  hateful,  stubborn,  and  greatly  to  be  blamed, 
but  the  discipline  I  received  only  intensified  these 
faults,  and  tended  in  no  wise  to  remove  them.  One 
word  of  kindness,  and  I  would  have  followed  this  man 
to  the  death;  yet  while  he  crucified  me  he  did  not 
mean  to  be  cruel,  and  portions  of  the  time  I  was 
really  happy  in  his  society.  I  know  ho  was  full  of 
generous  feeling  for  me  even  while  I  tried  him  most ; 
for  \vhen,  after  leaving  for  California,  I  sent  him  a 
letter,  opening  my  heart  as  I  had  never  done  before, 
on  receipt  of  it,  as  my  sister  told  me,  he  threw  him- 
self upon  the  sofa  and  wept  like  a  child. 

The  mould  destined  for  me  ill  fitting  my  nature, 
which  would  not  be  melted  for  recasting,  or  even  made 
to  assume  comeliness  by  attrition,  I  fell  into  ray  own 
ways,  which  were  very  bad  ways ;  tramping  the  streets 


(vl 


R. 


THE  CLERK'S  LIFE. 


115 


of  books 
G  another 
Lcr-iu-law 
^-arcs  and 
foe,  that 

employer 

rests,  the 
,r  life  was 
ive  youth 
:er  my  re- 
impatient 
war  with 
rn,  qiiiclv, 
ked,  early 
in  any  ad- 
'  employer 
wn;  to  1)0 
!  one  after 
naturally 
'he  consc- 
»f  my  stay 
isperation. 
)0  blamed, 
ificd  thesL' 
lem.     One 
d  this  man 
le  did  not 
ime  I  was 
v-as  full  ot" 
him  most ; 
lent  him  a 
one  before, 
,hrew  hini- 


at  night  with  jovial  companions,  indulging  in  midnight 
Slippers,  and  all-night  dancings.  Lo,  how  the  puritan's 
son  has  fallen!  Conscience  pricked  faithfully  at  first. 
I  soon  grew  easier  in  iniiid;  then  reckless;  and  finally 
lu^glecting  ray  bible,  my  prayers,  and  all  those  Sabbath 
restraints  which  hold  us  back  from  rushing  Jicadlong 
to  destruction,  I  gave  myself  over  to  hardness  of  heart. 
"^'ct  all  tiiis  time  I  usually  listened  with  enjoyment 
iiud  profit  to  one  sermon  on  Sunday;  I  also  attended 
lectures  given  by  Park  Benjamin,  G.  P.  R.  James, 
Gough,  and  others;  these  and  novel-reading  comprised 
my  intellectual  food. 

Into  that  book'sellcr's  sliop  I  went  with  all  tlie  un- 
toniptcd  innocence  of  a  child;  out  of  it  I  came  M'ith  the 
tarnish  of  so-called  manly  experience.  There  I  plucked 
iii\'  first  forbidden  fruit  from  the  tree  of  knowledijfe  of 
good  and  evil;  yet  the  sense  of  right  remained,  and 
tliat  remorse  which  ever  mixes  bitter  with  the  sweets 
of  sin.  The  inherent  morality  doctrine,  and  a  trust- 
ing to  it,  is  flattering,  but  exceedingly  risky.  ]\ren 
and  women,  young  and  old,  inherently  good  or  inhe- 
rently bad,  nine  times  in  ten  will  stand  or  fall  accord- 
ing to  environment,  according  to  influence,  temptation, 
companionship. 

Every  now  and  then  I  would  turn  over  a  new  leaf; 
l)ravely  begin  a  diary,  scoring  the  first  page  with  high 
resolves,  such  as  total  abstinence  from  every  species 
of  wickedness,  tea,  coflTee,  wine,  tobacco;  determined 
to  think,  speak,  and  do  no  evil,  to  walk  always  as  be- 
fore the  eye  of  Omniscience,  clean  in  heart,  pure  in 
mind,  and  strong  in  body;  in  short,  to  be  a  perfect 
man — which  sublime  state  of  things,  wrought  up  be- 
yond human  endurance,  would  last  sometimes  for  three 
flays  or  three  weeks,  and  end  in  a  collapse.  Some- 
times I  would  keep  my  diary  up  during  the  year;  then 
again  I  would  open  a  blank  book,  without  fixed  dates, 
and  discharge  my  burning  thoughts  into  it  in  the  hope 
of  relief  Many  a  paving-block  have  I  laid  in  hell ; 
that  is  to  say,  if  good  intentions  are  there  used  for 


! 


IIG 


THE  COUNTRY  150Y  BECOMES  A  nOOKSELLER. 


troadinj^  on.  No  soonoi'  li.'id  I  doparted  fVoin  Buf- 
I'alo  on  my  way  to  ('alif'ornia  than  all  desire  left  me 
to  commit  these  foolish  hovish  excesses.  There  was 
then  no  one  to  hoodwink,  no  watchful  eye  to  circum- 
vent; it  ceased  to  be  amusinLif  when  I  was  my  own 
master;  so  when  thrown  into  the  pandemonium  at 
San  Francisco  I  had  not  the  slightest  inclination  to 
make  a  heast  or  a  villain  of  myself. 

But  the  time  thus  lostl  How  have  I  longed 
to  live  again  the  former  three  years  and  the  three 
f(»llowing.  Six  years  of  my  young  life  as  good  as 
squandered,  hi  some  respects  worse,  for  instead  of 
laying  the  foundation  for  health,  purity,  intellect,  I 
was  crushing  my  God-given  faculties,  damming  the 
source  of  high  thoughts  and  ennobling  aflections,  and 
i8owing  by  Stygian  streams  the  wild  seeds  of  perdition. 
At  the  time  when  of  all  others  the  plant  needs  judi- 
cious care,  when  the  hard  soil  needs  softening,  the 
ill-favored  branches  pruning,  the  destroyer  steps  in 
and  places  locusts  on  the  leaves  and  worms  about  the 
rijots. 

How  I  have  longed  to  go  back  and  place  myself 
with  a  riper  experience  under  my  own  tuition,  antl 
see  what  would  come  of  itl  How  I  would  tjather  in 
those  golden  opportunities  which  \vere  so  ruthlessly 
thrown  away;  how  I  would  prize  those  hours,  and 
days,  and  years  so  flippantly  regarded;  how  I  would 
cherish  and  cultivate  that  body  and  mind  so  wellnigh 
wrecked  on  the  shoals  of  youthful  folly!  Why  could 
we  not  have  been  born  old,  and  from  decrepitude  witli 
learning  and  wisdom  have  grown  young,  and  so  have 
had  the  benefit  of  our  wealth  of  experience  in  the 
enjoyment  of  our  youth  1  It  seems  that  if  I  had 
only  known  something  of  what  life  is  and  the  impor- 
tance of  riafht  living,  I  could  have  made  almost  anv- 
thing  of  myself  So  has  thought  many  another;  and 
so  thinking,  life  appears  such  a  precious  delusion — 
the  life  which  to  know  requires  living,  and  which  is 
lived  only  to  know  that  it  is  lost  I 


THE  PxVCinC  COAST. 


117 


Tt  was  ft  few  moiitlis  before  I  left  inv  home  for  the 
first  time  that  gold  had  been  discovered  in  California; 
Imt  not  until  a  year  later  did  the  news  so  overspread 
the  countiy  as  to  cause  any  excitement  in  the  (juiet 
town  of  (Iranvillc.  Scarcely  had  I  reached  Ihili'alo 
tlie  second  time  when  letters  informed  nie  that  mv 
tilt  her  was  thinking  of  jtjoinij  to  the  new  El  Dorado. 
The  ancient  leaven  of  industry  and  enterpiise  still 
worked  in  him,  and  although  far  past  the  average  age 
ol"  those  who  joined  tlie  pilgrimage  to  the  golden 
shrine,  he  could  not  resist  the  temptation.  Though 
hut  little  over  fifty,  he  was  called  an  old  man  in  those 
(lays  in  California.  By  the  1st  of  February  it  was 
settled  that  he  would  go,  and  in  March,  1850,  he  set 
sail  fi-(>m  New  York.  I  had  a  boyish  desire  to  ac- 
r()ni])any  him,  but  did  not  think  seriously  of  going  at 
the  time.  I  was  more  absorbed  in  flirtations,  oyster 
sii|»pcrs,  and  dancing  paities  than  fascinated  by  tlu; 
jiiiisj)ect  of  digging  for  gold. 

Xcvertheless  the  wheel  of  my  destiny  was  turning. 
Ill  January,  ISf)!,  Mr  Derby  received  a  letter  from 
ail  uncle  of  mine,  my  mother's  brother,  then  in 
Oregon,  ordering  quite  a  quantity  of  books.  This 
dm  land,  coming  from  a  now  and  distant  market,  made 
(piite  an  impression  upon  the  mind  of  the  ardent 
young  bookseller.  Visions  filled  his  brain  of  mam- 
moth warehouses  risinsf  in  vast  cities  alonuf  the  shores 
ol"  the  Pacific,  of  publication  offices  and  manufacturing 
cstal  »lishments,having  hundredsof  busy  clerks  and  arti- 
sans, l)uving,  making,  and  selHn<]f  books,  and  he  would 

111'  ~  ~  . 

walk  the  floor  excitedly  and  talk  of  these  things  by  the 
liour,  until  he  was  wellnigh  ready  to  sell  out  a  safe 
iiud  profitable  business,  pack  up,  and  go  to  California 
liiin>-elf  These  visions  were  prophetic;  and  through 
his  instrumentality  one  such  establishment  as  he  had 
dicanied  of  was  planted  in  the  metropolis  of  this  west- 
ern sealward,  although  he  did  not  live  to  know  of  it. 

^Fy  nearest  companion  at  this  time  was  a  fellow- 
ck'ik,  George  L.  Keiniy,  the  son  of  an  Irish  gentleman. 


lis 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY  BFX'OMES  A  BOOKSELLER. 


^:||:i 


I  h;  had  c(jino  to  seek  his  t'ortuuc  in  America,  and  found 
liis  way  ahnost  direct  from  the  motlier  country  to  tho 
Ihiffalo  hcjokstore,  where  he  luid  been  enujiLfed  but  a 
few  months  wlien  I  lirst  arrived  there.  From  that 
day  for  over  a  third  of  a  century  his  Hfe  and  mine  have 
been  densely  liidced.  In  physique  he  was  tall,  thin, 
and  muscular,  somewhat  awkward  in  his  movements, 
with  an  open  countenance,  as  we  used  to  call  his 
lai-Lje  mouth,  which  in  laughing  he  displayed  to  its 
widest  extent.  I  have  occasion  to  remend)er  both 
the  awkwardness  and  the  strength  of  my  ancient 
comrade;  for-  one  day  in  Buffalo,  'skylarking,'  as  we 
termed  it,  with  his  huge  fist  he  placed  my  nasal  organ 
out  of  line,  where  it  ever  after  remained.  In  dis[)()si- 
tion  and  character  he  was  ixenerous  almost  to  a  fault; 
affLctionate,  warm-hearted,  and  mild,  though  passion- 
ate and  stubborn  when  roused;  jovial  and  inspiriting 
as  a  companion,  stanch  and  reliable  as  a  friend,  and 
honest  as  a  man.  He  it  was  who  introduced  me  into 
the  mysteries  of  bookscllinG:,  and  other  and  mori; 
(juestionable  mysteries,  when  fii'st  I  went  to  Buli'alo. 

^Ii-  Derby  was  a  man  of  many  ideas.  Thougli 
practical  and  conservative  in  the  main,  the  fertility 
of  his  brain  and  his  enthusiasm  often  gave  him 
little  rest.  Once  seized  with  the  thought  of  Cali- 
fornia in  connection  with  his  business,  he  could  not 
dispossess  Ids  mind  of  it.  There  it  fastened,  causing 
him  many  a  restless  day  and  sleepless  night.  He  talk'  m  I 
of  sending  out  one,  then  another,  then  he  tliougiit  li  ■ 
would  go  himself;  but  much  of  what  was  said  lie  '.now 
to  be  impracticable,  and  all  tho  while  his  ideas  Vtcrii 
dim  and  shadowy.  Finally  he  talked  more  directly 
of  me  as  tho  one  to  go — why  I  do  not  know,  unless 
it  was  that  I  could  best  be  spared,  and  also  that  1 
had  friends  there,  who,  if  they  succeeded,  might  sup- 
[)ly  me  with  money.  Oregon  was  the  point  at  this 
time  talked  of.  I  was  ready  to  go,  but  had  as  yet  no 
special  enthusiasm  for  the  adventure. 


R. 


TIIK  WAY  OPi:\F.D. 


110 


Liul  found 
ry  to  tlio 
^rcd  but  a 
roin  that 
nine  hav(! 
:all,  thin, 
)vcniunts, 
)   call  his 
-ed  to  its 
ibcr  both 
y   anciont 
11^;  as  wc 
isal  organ 
n  disposi- 
:o  a  fault; 
li  passion- 
nspiritiuL;' 
•iund,  and 
id  nic  inti) 
and  moir 
o  Bulfalo. 

Thouo-li 

0  fertility 
him 

of  Cali- 
could  not 
d,  causing' 
HotalkiMl 
imigiLt  h  ■ 

1  ho  '.now 
deas  were 
1*0  directly 
low,  unless 
so  that  1 
night  suji- 
nt  at  this 

as  yet  no 


gave 


!Mian\vhilc  ]\rr  ])eri)y  Jiad  ventured  three  whij)- 
Hi'iits  of  goods  to  the  Pacific;  one  small  lot  sold  at 
seventy-five  percent  above  the  invoice,  and  althougli 
11m •  other  two  were  lost,  one  by  lire  and  the  other  by 
I'ailure  of  the  consignee,  the  one  success  was  sulli- 
cii-nt  to  excite  great  ho])es.  This,  together  with  a 
letter  from  my  father  received  toward  the  latter  part 
of  December,  1851,  determined  me  to  go  to  Cali- 
I'uriiia.  I  was  anxious  to  have  Mr  Kenny  accompany 
inc.  lie  would  like  much  to  go,  he  said,  but  luul  not 
till'  money.  I  urged  him  to  speak  to  ^Ir  Derl)y  about 
it.  He  did  so,  when  our  now  most  gracious  employer 
ii'l ilied :  **  For  a  long  time  1  have  been  desirous  of  your 
gdliig  to  California;  only  I  would  not  propose  it." 
1  le  then  entered  heartily  into  our  plans  and  opened 
lilt;  way  for  both  of  us. 

I  felt  by  no  means  eager  for  gold;  it  was  rather 
lHiyi.>h  adventure  that  prompted  me.  California  was 
|i'ntured  in  my  mind  as  a  nondescript  country  on  the 
other  side  of  huge  mountains,  which  once  overstep[)eil, 
w  ith  most  that  1  cared  for  left  behind,  there  was  little 
hope  of  return.  I  was  not  so  weaned  but  that  I  must 
see  my  mother  before  I  departed,  perhaps  never  to 
return;  and  although  it  involved  an  unpleasant  and 
ex|)ensive  journey  over  tlie  snow  in  the  dead  of  winter, 
1  immediately  performed  it.  Then  bidding  all  a  long 
tail  well,  and  calling  on  the  way  upon  Mr  James  C. 
I  )eiby  of  Auburn,  my  comrade  Kenny  and  I  went 
down  to  New  York,  entered  our  names  at  the  Irving 
lioiisc,  and  were  ready  to  embark  by  the  next  steamer. 


iij 


CHAPTER  V, 


HAIL  CALIFORNIA!    ESTO  PERPETUA! 


() 


(» 


Never  despair;  but  if  you  do,  work  in  despair. 

Burke, 

A  DETAILED  description  of  an  early  voyage  from 
New  York  to  Chagres,  across  the  Istlinms  to  Pan- 
auul,  and  thence  to  San  Francisco,  belonofs  rather  t 
the  time   than  to   the  individual.     So  large   a  por- 
tion of  the  Californian's  life,  during  the  first  twenty 
years  following  the  discovery  of  gold,  was  occai)ie(l 
in  the  passage  by  the  various  routes  from  one  side  of 
the  continent  to  the  other,  that  a  })icture  of  that 
epoch,  with  this  prominent  and  characteristic  scmu' 
left  out,  would  be  unfinished.    During  the  first  fifteen 
years  of  my  residence  on  the  western  coast  I  made 
the  passage  between  New  York  and  San  Francisc 
by  way  of  Pananul  no  less  than  eleven  times,  thus 
spending  on  the  water  nearly  one  year,  or  v/liat  would 
be  almost  equivalent  to  every  other  Sundaj'  during 
that  time.     JNIany  made  the  voyage  twice  or  thrice 
as  often,  and  life  on  the  steamer  was  but  a  pari:  of 
California  life,     It  was  there  the  beG^inniniX  was  matk' : 
it  was  sometimes  the  ending.     It  was  there  the  an- 
gular eccentricities  were  first  filed  off,  and  rousjfhlv 
filed,  as  many  a  soft-bearded  fledgling  tliought.     W 
was  there  tlie  excrescences  of  egotism  and  the  morbid 
superfluities  fastened  on  the  character  by  local  train 
ing,  or  lack  of  training,  first  began  the  rub  against  tin- 
excrescences  and  superfluities  of  others,  all  of  wlii 
tended  to  the  ultimate  polish  and  perfection  of  th 
mass, 

1 120  1 


ICll 


n  ! 


THE  VOYAGE  AND  ARRIVAL. 


121 


In  my  California  Inter  Pocula  I  have  given  a  full 
account  of  the  voyage  out.  I  have  there  given  it  in 
detail,  not  because  of  anything  particularly  striking, 
hut  to  show  what  the  voyage  in  those  cla3's  was;  for, 
cxceptijig  shipwrecks,  epidemicSj  or  other  special  hard- 
ships, they  were  all  very  like.  I  shall  not  therefore 
]'ej)eat  the  description  here,  but  merely  say  that  on 
the  24th  of  February,  1852,  in  company  with  Mr 
Kenny,  I  embarked  at  New  York  on  the  steamer 
(leonje  Law,  bound  for  Habana.  On  reaching  this 
])ort  the  sixth  day,  passengers,  mails,  and  freight  were 
transfei'red,  with  those  of  the  steamer  from  New  Or- 
leans, to  the  Georyia,  which  that  night  sailed  for 
(JJKigres,  touching  at  Jamaica.  Arrived  at  Chagrcs 
we  were  sent  to  Aspinwall  to  disend)ark,  so  as  to  ride 
over  some  six  or  eight  miles  of  the  Panam;!  railway 
just  then  opened  for  that  distance— that  we  might 
ride  over  the  road  and  pay  the  fare.  After  the  usual 
delay  on  the  Isthmus  we  endnirked  on  the  steamer 
Panamd  the  12th  of  ]March,  touched  nt  several  ports 
oil  the  Pacific,  and  reached  San  Francisco  at  twelve 
o'clock  the  first  day  of  A]iril. 

When  I  arrived  in  California  John  Bi^'ler  was  gov- 
ornor.  The  capital  had  just  been  removed  from  Val- 
lejo  to  Sacramento.  In  San  Francisco  the  wars  with 
snuatters,  Peter  Smith  titles,  and  water- lot  frauds 
were  attractinij  the  chief  attention.  Portions  of  the 
streets  were  brilliantly  lighted  from  the  glare  of  gain- 
Itling-saloons;  elsewhere  all  was  thick  darkness.  O  i 
]\[oiitgomery  street,  indeed,  lamps  were  posted  by  the 
occupants,  but  there  was  no  system  of  street  lights, 
and  in  the  dark  places  about  the  docks,  in  the  back 
streets,  and  round  the  suburbs,  many  dark  deeds  were 
coinmitted.  Crime, driven  into  holes  aiul  hidiug-plaees 
I'V  the  Vigilance  Committee  of  1851,  was  beginning 
to  show  its  face  again,  but  the  a'  ,  '■  -rities,  wakened  to 
a  livelier  sense  of  duty  by  the  late  arbitrary  action  of 
tile  citizens,  were  more  on  the  alert  than  formerly,  and 
criiuiiials  were  caught  and  punished  with  some  degree 


122 


HAIL  CALIFOKNIA!    ESTO  PERPETUA! 


of  tliorouijliness.  Af^riculturc  was  attractinij  more 
atteiitiou  than  at  any  time  previous.  Bull  and  bear 
ii^'lits  at  the  Mission,  and  the  childlike  game  of  A  13 
(J  on  LooLj  wharf,  were  in  vogue.  Gambling  was 
somewhat  on  the  decline — times  were  becoming  too 
hard  to  risk  a  hundred  dollars  for  an  evening's  amuse- 
ment— but  it  was  the  day  of  grand  rafHes,  grand  auction 
sales,  gi-and  ({uartz-mining  schemes,  and  Biscacciauti 
concerts.  Fire  and  flood  held  their  alternate  sway  over 
the  destinies  of  town  and  country,  aiding  other  causes 
to  accomplish  business  disruptions  and  failures. 

It  was  the  day  of  complimenting  sea-captains  who 
a])[)roximated  to  their  duty;  of  long  annual  sessions 
of  the  legislature,  of  fighting  officials,  and  anti-Chi- 
nesc  meetings— thouii'li  concerning  this  last  named 
fermentation  the  Cjuestion  arises.  When  in  California 
was  it  not?  The  most  striking  feature  of  the  town  at 
nin'ht  to  a  stranger  was  the  gambling-houses,  the  more 
aristocratic  establishments  being  then  situated  on  the 
[daza  and  Commercial  street,  and  the  lower  dens  prin- 
cipally on  Long  wharf.  The  better  class  suppoited 
a  line  orchestra  of  live  or  six  wind  instruments,  while 
in  others  a  solitary  cracked  piano  or  violin  squeaked 
the  invitation  to  enter.  The  building  was  usually  a 
mere  shell,  while  the  interior  was  gorgeously  deco- 
rated and  illumined  with  chandeliers  presenting  a 
mass  of  glittering  glass  pendants.  Monte,  faro,  rou- 
lette, lansquenet,  vingt-et-un,  and  rouge-et-noir,  were 
the  favorite  games,  though  many  others  were  played. 
During  week-days  thesr  places  were  usually  quiet,  but 
at  night  and  on  Sundays  the  jingling  of  coin  and  the 
clinking  of  glasses  were  mingled  with  the  music  of 
the  orchestra  in  hellish  harmony.  Above  all  voices 
was  heard  that  of  the  dealer:  "Make  your  game, 
gentlemen,  make  your  game!  All  down?  Make  your 
game!  All  down?  The  game  is  made!  no  more;  deuce, 
black  wins." 

Then  followed  the  raking-in  ])rocess,  and  the  paying- 
out,  after  which  came  a  new  shuiile  and  a  new  deal; 


ii  I 


i  ! 


BEDIZENED  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


123 


and  thus  the  performance  was  repeated  and  the  ex- 
citement kept  up  throughout  the  quickly  flying  hours 
(if  the  ni^'ht.  Hound  the  tables  sat  beautiiul  lemales 
ill  rustling  silks  and  flaming  diamonds,  their  beauty 
;iihI  magnificent  attire  contrasting  stran^-elv  with  the 
"lizzlv  t'catures,  slouched  hats,  and  woollen  shirts  of 
their  victims.  The  license  for  a  single  table  was  fifty 
dollars  per  quarter.  In  some  saloons  wore  eight  or 
till  of  these  tables,  in  others  but  one;  and  there  were 
Inindreds  of  saloons,  so  that  the  revenue  to  the  city 
was  large.  A  bill  prohibiting  gambling  was  intro- 
duced in  the  legislature  just  before  I  arrived,  but  it 
was  lost  in  the  senate. 

Two  days  and  niu'ht  •  amid  scenes  like  these  in  San 
I'j'^uicisco  were  iUlIvuv;,  ■  o  drive  away  the  little  wit  left 
by  tlie  strange  experieuccs  at  Habana,on  the  Istlnuus, 
and  on  board  tlie  steamers,  and  to  properly  pre[iare 
tlie  boyish  mind  for  the  pandemonium  of  the  miners. 
The  two  days  were  spent  by  lUu  in  wandering  tdjout 
t  he  business  [)arts  of  the  town,  wading  nmddy  streets, 
and  elimbinu'  sand-hills;  the  ni<jhts  in  goinii'  from  one 
;j,aining- house  to  another,  observing  the  erowds  of 
|ii'()l)le  come  and  go,  watching  the  artistic  barkeepers 
ill  their  white  coats  mixing  i'ancy  drinks  and  serving 
fiom  gorgeously  decorated  and  mirrored  bars  fiery 
]iotations  of  every  kind,  gazir.g  in  rapt  bewilder- 
ment upon  the  fortune -turniug  (aole  with  its  fatal 
i'aseinations,  marking  the  pile:  of  i^oney  increase  and 
lessen, and  the  faces  behind  t-  en;  ir  >  \aden  and  h'ligthen, 
ami  listening  to  the  music  tii;  '.  mingled  witii  the 
iliinkinu'  of  u'old,  the  rattlinn  v.5  ulasses,  and  the 
vuicL'S  of  rough,  loud-laughing  men.  ''There  are  in- 
deed but  very  few,"  says  Addison,  "who  know  how 
tn  hu  idle  and  innocent.'"'  Two  days  and  nights  of 
this;  t lien  from  Long  wliarf  we  boarded  a  steam-boat 
and  went  to  Sacramento. 

Having    letters    to    E  m  '  a>    T^ecd    and    Grimm, 
reiinnission  merchants  of  S.;' 'nmento,  to  whom  Mr 


124 


HAIL  CALIFORNIA!    ESTO  PfRrETCA! 


t  I 


Derby  had  made  one  or  two  consignments  of  books  on 
a  venture,  we  immediately  called  on  them  and  talked 
over  the  relative  business  chances  in  San  Francisco 
and  Sacranunto.  The  plan  of  going  to  Oregon  had 
been  long  s'nce  abandoned, and  nowSacramcnto  seemed 
to  offer  more  attractions  for  the  opening  of  a  small 
F^op  tlian  any  other  place.  San  Francisco  was  the 
larger  field,  but  it  seemed  more  than  f'ulh'  (K'cupied, 
as  lias  been  the  case  in  every  city  and  town  on  the 
coast  from  the  beginning.  As  a  rule,  one  half  the 
merchants  with  one  half  the  stocks  would  have  sup- 
plied all  the  requirements  of  trade.  Overtrading  has 
always  been  a  source  of  loss  or  ruin  '(■■  *h  )se  enL»nged 
in  mercantile  pursuits.  True,  this  L.  -een  and  is 
more  or  less  the  case  elsewhere.  There  .^e  too  many 
men  anxious  for  gain  without  the  labor  of  producing. 
All  branches  of  business  are  overdone;  the  professions 
are  crowded  to  overflowimif,  and  for  everv  vacant  chrk- 
ship  there  are  a  hundred  ap})licants.  In  new  counti'ics 
this  is  almost  always  the  way;  particularly  has  it 
been  so  in  California,  where  gold  mining  was  added  to 
the  usual  allurements  of  speculative  tralKc.  Here, 
Avhere  all  started  equal  in  the  race  for  wealth,  and 
all  were  eager  to  secure  a  pennanent  ioothold,  where 
many  opened  at  once  on  a  large  scale,  and  conq)etitioii 
i-an  liigh,  and  almost  every  one  traded  ])eyond  his  ca})i- 
tal,  the  inducements  to  enter  the  whirlpool  in  any 
locality  were  tame  enough.  But  in  the  breasts  t»f  the 
young  and  adventurous  hope  is  strong. 

Sacramento  having  been  decided  on  as  the  morr 
fitting  field,  the  next  thing  was  to  write  Mr  Derby  and 
inform  him  of  our  decision.  This  done  we  took  tin 
boat  for  IMarysville,  en  route  for  Long  bar,  in  scairli 
of  my  father.  iJiere  I  was  initiated  into  tlu;  mys- 
teries of  mining  and  mining  life.  The  placer  digging^^ 
c^f  this  locality  were  then  good,  and  so  remained  for 
several  years,  but  the  ]>oj)ulation  changed  every  few 
months,  the  dissatisfied  leaving  and  new  adventurers 
coming  in.     Ten  dollars  a  dav  was  too  little  in  tln' 


PLACER  AXD  QUARTZ. 


12S 


)0()ks  on 
1  talked 
ranc'i.sco 
^ou  had 
)  seemed 
'  a  small 
was  the 
)ceupie(l. 
n  on  the 
half  the 
avo  sup- 
iding  has 
eiigai^ed 
!ii  and  is 
ioo  many 
roducing'. 
•ofessions 
mt  clerk - 
countries 
y   has   it 
added  t'.i 
Here, 
dth,  and 
d,  where 
npetition 
hiscapi- 
1  in  any 

ts  of   tlK 

bho  more 
|erby  and 
book  tile 
hi  search 
[he  mys- 
diggings 
liined  t'H' 
Ivery  few 
fentuivrs 
in  the 


eves  of  those  accustomed  to  make  twenty,  and  so  they 
sold  or  abandoned  their  claims  and  prospected  for 
j'iclier  diggings.  Wandering  thus  from  placer  to  placer 
tor  years,  they  lost  their  opportunity,  if  not  their  lives, 
,iiid  usually  ended  their  mining  career  where  they 
iK'gaii,  without  a  dollar. 

When  my  father  came  to  the  country,  m}'  eldest 
1  not  her,  Curtis,  who  had  preceded  him,  was  keeping 
a  stole  and  hotel  at  Long   bar.     He  was  doing  well, 
w  as  making  money  steadily  and  safely.    At  one  time 
he   liad   five  thousand  dollars  surplus  capital,  with 
which  he  started  for  San  Francisco,  there  to  invest  it 
ill  city  lots.     Had  he  done  so,  buying  judic-nisly  and 
lioldiniX.  he  misrht  now  be  worth  millions  instead  of 
nothing.     Unfortunately,  on  his  way  ho  comnmnieated 
the  ]>lan  to  John  C.  Fall,  then  one  of  the  leading  mer- 
chants of  Marysville,  and  high  in  the  esteem  of  my 
hrotlier.     Bv  him  he  was  induced  to  make  a  venture 
which  involved  his  leavuig  Long  bar,  and  idtimately 
r'ldcd  in  financial  ruin,    liich  bar,  on  Feather  river, 
Iiad  lately  been  discovered,  and  was  drawing  multi- 
tU(Ks  of  fortune-seekers  fnmi  every  quarter.     It  was 
not  difficult  for  Mr  Fall  to  persuade  my  brother  with 
an  abundance  of  means  and  an  unlimited  credit  to 
huy  a  l)and  of  mules  and  freight  them  for  that  place. 
Once  there  he  erected  a  l)uil(ling,  and  opened  a  hotel 
and  store.     For  a  time  all  went  well.     Up  and  down 
the  liver  the  dig^sjinofs  were  rich,  and  fjold  dust  was 
poured  into  his  coffers  by  the  quart.     The  establish- 
ment at  Long  bar  seemed  insignificant  in  comparison, 
and  l)einfj  attended  with  some  care,  he  sold  it  and 
moved  his  family  to  Rich  bar.     My  father  remained  at 
Long    l)ar.    He  had  been  in  the  count.y  now  about 
two  years,  had  accumulated  quite  a  little  sum,  and 
contein])lated    soon    returning    home.     But    shortly 
hetbve  setting   out   an  opportunity  offered  whereby 
he   night  increase  his  little  fortune  tenfold,  and  witli- 
<'Ut  a  risk  of  failure — so  it  seemed  to  him  and  to 
others. 


J  20 


HAIL  CALIFORNIA!    ESTO  TERPETUAI 


Quartz  mining:  was  about  this  time  attracting;  at- 
tcntioii,  and  the  prospect  \vas  very  Hatteriiig.  The 
ledi^o  was  discovered  and  staked  off,  its  dimensions 
tohl,  its  rock  assayed,  the  cost  of  crushing  reckoned, 
5ind  the  number  of  years  calculated  before  tlic  mini; 
W(^ukl  be  exhausted.  Surely  this  was  no  vain  specu- 
lation, it  Mas  a  simple  arithmetical  sum,  the  quantity, 
the  rpiality,  the  cost  of  separation,  and  the  net  profits. 
Yet  it  was  a  suni  which  wrecked  thousands.  The 
gold  was  in  the  mine,  and  rock  enough  of  an  ascer- 
tained grade  to  last  for  years,  but  the  cost  of  extract- 
ing was  more  than  had  been  anticipated,  and,  what 
was  worst  of  all,  and  almost  always  ovei'looked  in 
these  calculations,  the  methods  of  savin<]f  the  o'old  afav 
the  rock  was  crushed  were  imperfect,  so  that  oven 
good  rock  failed  to  pay  expenses. 

Two  miles  from  Long  bar,  near  the  ^farysvilh' 
road,  was  a  place  called  Brown  valley,  and  thi'ougli 
tliis  ]-an  a  fpiartz  ledge,  long  known  but  regarded  a.> 
valueless,  because  no  one  could  extract  the  gold  iVoni 
the  hard  wliite  rock  which  held  it.  When,  however, 
fjuartz  mining  became  the  fashion,  and  every  one  who 
owned  a  share  was  sure  of  a  fortune,  this  led'j'e  was 
taken  up  and  staked  off  into  claims  under  the  names 
of  different  companies.  One  of  these  co..i})anies  was 
called  the  Plymouth,  alwn^'s  a  pleasing  name  to  tlie 
ear  '^'"  my  father,  and  as  it  embosomed  an  abundance 
of  gold,  he  was  induced  to  invest — not  venture — the 
greatei  part  of  the  money  he  had  made,  before  re- 
turning homo. 

Midway  between  Long  bar  and  thomineranalittl<' 
stream,  M'hose  name,  Dry  creek,  was  significant  of  its 
character,  it  being,  like  many  other  streams  in  Cali- 
fornia, flush  with  water  in  the  winter  and  dry  as  a  parlor 
floor  in  the  summer.  This  stream  had  been  dammed, 
a  race  dug,  and  a  quartz  mill  with  eight  or  ten  stamps 
constructed,  all  in  working  order;  and  at  the  time  ol' 
my  arrival  it  was  just  ready,  as  it  had  been  at  any 
time  since  its  erection,  to  make  every  shareholder  rich. 


MINING  INFELICITIES. 


127 


tn 


It  was  merely  necessary  to  effect  some  little  change 
ill  the  method  of  extracting  and  saving  tlie  gold,  and 
this  was  receiving  attention. 

I  fcund  my  father,  in  connection  with  other  mcni- 
l)crs  of  the  Plymouth  association,  busily  engaged  in 
wf)]'king  this  mine.  He  occupied  a  little  cloth  house 
in  the  vicinity  of  the  ledge,  and  being  the  owner  of  a 
good  mule  team,  he  employed  himself  in  hauling  rock 
IVom  the  mine  to  the  mill,  about  one  mile  apart,  and 
in  iratherinfj  wood  with  which  to  burn  the  rock,  so 
that  it  could  be  the  more  easily  crushed.  The  first 
nig] it  I  spent  with  him  in  the  liotel  at  Long  bar. 
l'\)rcmost  among  iny  recollections  of  the  place  are 
tlio  ilcas,  which,  together  with  the  loud  snorings  and 
ahominable  smells  proceeding  from  the  great  hairy 
unwashed  strewed  about  on  bunks,  benches,  tables, 
;nid  iloor,  so  disturbed  ni}^  sleep  that  I  arose  and 
wiiit  out  to  select  a  soft  place  on  the  hill-sido  above 
the  camp,  where  I  rolled  myself  in  a  IJanket  and 
|)assed  the  night,  my  first  in  the  open  air  of  Cali- 
inrnia. 

Tlio  next  day  found  me  settled  down  to  business. 
As  eight  or  nine  months  must  elapse  before  i>y  letter 
from  Sacramento  could  be  received  by  ]\Ir  Derby, 
and  goods  reach  me  by  way  of  Cape  Horn,  it  was 
arranged  that  I  should  work  with  my  father  for  the 
riyniouth  company.  In  the  morning  we  climbed  the 
oak  trees  scattered  about  the  valley,  and  with  an  axe 
lopped  off  the  large  brittle  branches,  adding  them  to 
the  already  huge  pile  of  wood  beside  the  mill.  At 
noon  we  proceeded  to  the  little  cloth  house,  unhar- 
nessed and  fed  the  animals,  and  then  cooked  and 
ate  our  dinner.  Beefsteak,  beans,  bread,  and  pota< 
toes,  with  coffee,  canned  fruits,  pancakes,  or  anything 
ol'  the  kind  we  chose  to  add,  constituted  the  fare 
of  self-boarding  miners  in  those  days;  but  with  all 
our  culinary  talents  we  could  not  offer  Mr  Kenny 
a  meal  sufficiently  tempting  to  induce  him  to  par- 
take of  it,  and  so  he  obtained   his  dinner  from  a 


128 


HAIT.  CALIFORNIA!    ESTO  PEUrETlJA! 


boarclliiiif-liouse  near  by,  and  left  shortly  afterward  for 
Klch  bar. 


I  cannot  say  that  I  enjoyed  this  kind  of  life,  and 
could  scarcely  have  endured  it  but  for  the  thouj^dit 
that  it  was  only  temporary.  At  night  the  animals 
v.ere  turned  loose  to  graze.  Early  in  the  morning, 
long  l)cfore  the  sun  had  risen,  I  was  up  and  over  tiiu 
hills  after  them.  Stiff  and  sore  from  the  pi-evious 
day's  work,  wet  with  wading  through  the  long  dam]) 
grass,  I  was  in  no  humor  to  enjoy  those  glorious 
moriungs,  ushered  in  by  myiiads  of  sweet  songstcis 
welcoming  the  warm  sunlight  which  came  tremblingly 
through  the  soft  misty  air.  To  the  clouds  of  toj)- 
knotted  quails  which  rose  at  my  approach,  the  leaping 
hare,  the  startled  deer,  and  the  thick  beds  of  fresh 
fragrant  flowers  which  I  trampled  under  my  feet,  I 
was  alike  indifferent.  The  music  of  the  mules  alouo 
allured  mo,  though  the  clapper  of  the  bell  which  told 
me  wlicre  they  were  beat  discordantly  on  my  strained 
ear.  Back  to  my  breakfast  and  then  to  work.  How 
I  loaded  and  lashed  the  poor  dumb  beasts  in  my  dis- 
temper, and  gritted  my  teeth  with  vexation  over  tlie 
unwelcome  task!  The  sharp  rock  cut  my  hands,  the 
heavy  logs  of  wood  strained  my  muscles;  and  my 
temper,  never  one  of  the  sweetest,  fumed  and  fretted 
like  that  of  a  newly  chained  cub.  Were  it  in  my 
power  I  would  have  pluralizcd  those  mules  so  as  to 
smite  the  more.  Some  woods  send  forth  fraixranco 
under  the  tool  of  the  carver.  Such  was  not  my  na- 
ture. I  never  took  kindly  to  misfortune;  prosperity 
fits  me  like  a  glove.  It  is  good  to  be  afflicted;  but 
I  do  not  like  to  receive  the  good  in  that  way.  "Bo- 
narum  rcrum  consuetude  est  pessima,"  says  Publius 
Syrus;  but  such  has  not  been  my  experience.  I  will 
admit  that  adversity  may  be  good  for  other  peo})lo, 
but  the  continuance  of  prosperity,  I  verily  believe, 
has  never  by  any  means  been  prejudicial  to  me,  either 
in  mind  or  morality.     Byron  thought  Shelley,  who 


FAILURE  AND  ABANDONMENT. 


129 


liad  borne  up  manfully  under  adversity,  the  most 
.iniiablo  of  men,  until  he  saw  Lord  Blessington,  wlio 
luul  retained  his  gentle  good  nature  through  a  long 
Hci  ios  of  unvarying  prosperity. 

The  night  before  leaving  Buffalo  I  had  danced 
until  morning.  It  happened  that  about  the  only 
clothes  saved  from  the  thieves  of  the  Isthmus  were 
the  ones  used  on  that  occasion.  These  I  wore  until 
work  turned  them  into  rags.  In  the  pocket  I  one 
day  found  a  pair  of  white  kid  gloves,  relic  of  past 
rcnelries,  and  putting  them  on  I  gathered  up  the 
reins,  mounted  the  load,  and  beating  my  nudes  into 
a  round  trot,  rode  up  to  the  mill  laughing  bitterly 
at  the  absurdity  of  the  thing.  It  was  the  irony  of 
gentlemanly  digging.  Ten  or  twelve  loads  was  a  fair 
day's  work;  I  hauled  twenty  or  twenty-five.  A  dollar 
a  load  was  the  price  allowed — but  it  was  not  money, 
it  was  wrath,  that  made  me  do  it.  My  father,  though 
mild  in  his  treatment  of  me,  expostulated.  He  feared 
I  would  kill  the  animals.  I  said  nothing,  but  when 
out  of  his  sight  I  only  drove  them  the  harder.  Little 
cared  I  whether  the  mules  or  myself  were  killed. 
Sunday  was  a  day  of  rest,  but  on  Monday  I  felt  sorer 
in  body  and  mind  than  on  any  other  day.  I  had 
brought  plenty  of.  books  with  me,  but  could  not  read, 
or  if  I  did  it  was  only  to  raise  a  flood  of  longings 
which  seemed  sometimes  to  overwhelm  me.  My  soul 
was  in  harmony  with  nothing  except  the  coyotes  which 
all  night  howled  discordantly  behind  the  hills. 

After  two  months  of  this  kind  of  life  the  hot 
weather  was  upon  us.  The  streams  began  to  dry 
up;  water  was  becoming  scarce.  We  had  heaped  u[) 
the  wood  and  the  rock  about  the  mill,  and  my  tally 
showed  a  long  score  against  the  company  for  work. 
But  the  mill  did  not  pay.  There  was  always  some- 
thing wrong  about  it,  some  little  obstacle  that  stood 
in  the  way  of  immediate  brilliant  success:  the  stamps 
were  not  heavy  enough,  or  the  metal  was  too  soft, 
or  they  did  not  work  smoothly;  the  rest  of  the  ma- 


Ltt.  Isp.    0 


130 


IIML  CALIFORNIA!    ESTO  PERrETUA! 


chiiiciy  was  inadequate,  and  tlie  rock  was  harder  than 
had  been  anticipated.  Tliat  it  was  hard  enough,  I 
who  liad  handled  it  well  knew.  There  was  no  mone}^ 
but  there  were  [)lenty  of  shares. 

It   is    very  difficult   when    once   faith,   even   in  a 
falsity,  has  taken  possession  of  the  mind,  to  eivadicate 
it.     Especially  difficult  is  it  when  self-interest  stands 
in  the  wiiy  and  blinds  the  understanding.     Skepticism 
is  a  plant  of  slow  growth.     The  seeds  are  sown  ))V 
inexoi'able  fact,  in  an  unwelcome  soil,  and  the  germ  is 
smothered  by  ignorance  and  prejudice  until  time  and 
experience  force  it  to  the   light.     I    had   not   then 
readied  the  point  later  attained,  when  I  could  say 
with  Dante,  "Non  men  die  saver,  dubbiar  m'aggrata;" 
though  doubt  seldom  chains  a  "old-dijiijer  so  much  as 
knowledge   of  facts.     I   cannot  tell  why  neither  my 
father  nor  I  should  have  seen  by  this  time  that  the 
eiitei'piise  was  a  failure.     But  wo  did  not  see  it.     Wv 
had  scJiooled  ourselves  in  the  belief  that  the  rocky 
bank  contained  a  mint  of  money  which  must  soiai.' 
day  enrich  the  possessor.     But  there  was  then  nothiuLf 
more  to  be  done,  and  my  father  concluded  to  pay  a 
pai'ting  visit  to  my  brother  at  Ilich  bar  and  set  out 
for  home.     For  our  work  we  took  more  shares,  and 
still  more  in  exchange  for  the  team  and  the  scattering 
eftects,  and  abandoned  it  all  forever.     Several  years 
afterward  I  learned  that  a  new  company  had  taken 
possession  of  the  claim  and  was  doing  well.     Not  Ions,' 
after  leaving  the  place  I  became  convinced  tliat  the 
enterprise   was   a    failure,   and    firmly  resolved   that 
thenceforth,  whatever  speculation  I  might  at  any  time 
engage  in,  it  sliould  be  not  with  my  own  labor.     1 
might  stake  money,  but  if  I  worked  with  mv  hands  1 
would  have  pay  for  such  labor. 

Behold  us  now!  my  old  father  and  me,  tram])iiig 
over  the  plains  beneath  a  broiling  sun  about  the 
middle  of  June,  each  with  a  bundle  and  stick,  mine 
containing  my  sole  possessions.  In  the  early  morning, 
fresh  from  sleep,  with  gladness  of  heart  at  leaving 


IN  THE  MOUNTAINS. 


mi 


llio  beautiful  val^\v  of  liateful  occupation  lu'liiud,  wo 
iiiarclied  away  over  tlio  liill«  at  a  round  pace;,  l^ut 
iis  tliu  sun  above  our  lioads  neared  tlu>  point  from 
whidi  it  poured  its  perpen<li<'u]ar  and  most  effect- 
ual wrath,  I  became  excessively  fatigued.  Mv  feet 
Mistered;  my  lind)s  ached;  water  was  to  be  liad  only 
jit  intervals;  the  prayed-for  breath  of  air  en  me  hot 
and  suffocating,  like  a  sirocco,  mingled  with  incan- 
descent dust  beaten  from  the  parclied  plain.  Thinlcing 
over  my  short  experience  in  the  country  and  my 
present  position,  I  exclaimed,  "If  this  be  California, 
1  lio})e  God  will  give  me  little  of  it."  As  we  trotl 
slowlv  alonsjf,  stepiMug  lio^htly  on  the  burning  ground, 
1  hej»an  to  think  the  mules  would  have  been  better 
tor  our  purpose  than  the  shares,  but  1  said  nothing. 

Tliat  tlay  we  walked  tliirty  miles,  crossed  the  river 
at  l)idwell  bar,  intending  to  stop  over  night  at  a 
raiiclio  some;  distance  on  in  the  mountains;  but  we 
liad  not  ascended  far  before  I  persuaded  my  father 
t(i  camp,  for  rest  I  must.  He  willingly  complied, 
and  selecting  a  sheltered  ])lace  well  covered  with  dry 
leaves  we  sjn'ead  our  blankets.  In  a  moment  I  was 
asleep,  and  knew  nothing  further  till  morning,  when 
1  awoke  almost  as  fresh  as  over.  We  hatl  food  with 
us,  hut  the  niijfht  before  I  was  too  tired  to  cat.  The 
first  day  was  the  M'orst.  We  were  now  in  the  cool 
fragrant  air  of  the  Sierra,  travelling  a  well-l»eaten  path 
intersected  by  numerous  rivulets  of  melted  snow. 
The  third  day  we  reached  Rich  bar  in  good  con- 
dition. My  father,  after  a  visit  of  about  a  week, 
I'eturned  with  the  express  train — of  mules,  not  steam- 
cai's — to  Marysville,  where  he  took  the  boat  for  San 
Francisco,  and  thence  the  steamer  homewni'd. 

As  I  had  still  six  months  or  thereabout  to  wait  for 
niv  goods,  I  afjreed  to  remain  witli  mv  brother  (,\irtis 
lei'  such  compensation  as  he  should  choose  to  give. 
]\ly  duties  were  to  carry  on  the  store  and  look  after 
the  business  generally  in  his  absence.  Mr  Kenny 
was  likewise  engaged  by  my  brother  in  an  establish- 


182 


HAIL  CALIFORNIA!    ESTO  TERPETUAI 


mont  carried  on  by  him  at  Indian  bar,  a  few  miles 
down  the  river.  There  we  remained  until  November, 
when  we  went  to  San  Francisco. 

Shortly  before  leaving  Rich  bar  I  had  received 
intelligence  of  the  death  of  Harlow  Palmer,  elilest 
son  of  George  Palmer,  a  wealthy  and  highly  respected 
citizen  of  Buffalo.  Harlow  Palmer  had  married  my 
sister  Emily.  For  fine  womanly  instincts  and  self- 
sacrificing  devotion  to  duty  and  friendship  she  had  no 
superior ;  and  her  husband  was  among  the  noblest  of 
men.  Away  in  the  heart  of  the  Sierra  I  received 
the  heart-rending  tidings  as  a  message  from  another 
world.  I  said  nothing  to  any  one;  but  when  the  sun 
had  buried  itself  in  the  granite  waves  beyond,  and 
had  left  the  sky  and  earth  alone  together,  alone  to 
whisper  each  other  their  old-time  secrets,  with  my 
sad  secret  I  wandered  forth  beside  the  transparent 
river,  where  the  lusty  diggers  had  honey-combed  the 
pebbly  bottom  and  opened  graves  for  myriads  of  hopes, 
and  there,  down  in  the  deep  canon,  walled  in  by  sky- 
[>ropping  mountains,  I  sped  my  longings  upward,  tlie 
only  window  of  escape  for  my  pent  up  sorrow.  O  earth  I 
how  dark  and  desolate  thou  art,  with  thy  boisterous 
streams  singing  requiems  for  the  dead.  O  starlit  sky  I 
dim  not  my  vision  that  would  pierce  thy  milky  veil, 
nor  speed  back  my  blind  intelligence  from  its  unaj)- 
proachable  source.  Behold  the  immobile  sepulchral 
moon !  Ghastly  the  sun's  reflected  light  thrown  from 
fantastic  rocks  which  cast  their  phantom  shadows 
round  yawning  craters  reveals  the  hideousness  of  tlie 
gentle  orb,  gentle  because  dead,  tenantless  as  a  ceme- 
tery. Bats  we  are,  all  of  us,  teachers  and  pupils  alike, 
beating  our  senseless  brains  against  the  murky  cavern- 
walls  that  hem  us  in,  screeching  about  that  illimitaldo 
brightness  beyond,  of  which  we  have  been  told  so 
much  and  know  so  little,  only  to  drop  at  length  upon 
the  damp  floor,  despairing. 

But  this  was  only  the  beginning  of  sorrow.  Scarcely 
had  I  reached  Sacramento  when  the  death  of  George 


DEATH  A? 


iCOMFITURE. 


133 


n.  Derby  was  announced.  Surely,  said  I,  there 
iiiurit  be  a  mistake.  It  is  Mr  Palmer  they  mean; 
they  have  confused  the  husbands  of  the  two  sisters. 
1  would  not  believe  it;  it  could  not  be.  Letters, 
however,  soon  confirmed  the  report.  The  two  brothers- 
iii  law,  young,  higli -spirited,  active,  intelligent,  prom- 
isiiiLT  men,  the  warmest  of  friends,  livinjjf  on  the  same 
si(K'  of  the  same  street,  not  more  than  a  mile  ai)art, 
li;ul  both  been  swept  away  by  the  cholera  the  same 
iiK  )iitli.  I  was  stricken  dumb,  stupefied,  and  for  a  time, 
listless  and  purposeless,  I  wandered  about  the  quag- 
luirrs  and  charred  I'cmains  of  the  city — for  Sacia- 
UKiito  had  about  that  time  bcjii  visited  by  both  Hood 
and  lire — the  miry  and  sombre  surroundings  accord- 
ing well  with  the  despond-sloughs  and  ashen  contem- 
})lati()iis  within.  To  the  pure  fanatic  and  the  pure 
philosopher  alike  death  has  no  sting.  Deep  medita- 
tions on  man's  destiny  only  show  the  folly  of  harassing 
concern  about  v '  '^t  is  hidden  from  human  ken  or  of 
loudly  bewailii  hat  is  inevitable  to  all.  But  where 
neither  fanaticx^.  .  nor  philosophy  exists  one  suffers 
when  friends  die. 

All  my  plans  and  purposes  I  saw  at  once  were  at  an 
end.  I  knew  very  well  that  no  one  else,  now  that 
^Ir  Derby  was  dead,  would  do  so  foolish  a  thing  as  to 
continue  shipments  of  goods  to  an  inexperienced 
nKjneyloss  boy  in  California.  Indeed,  directly  after 
iecei\ insj  the  first  sad  intelliii^ence  came  a  letter  from 
the  executor,  requesting  the  speedy  sale  of  the  consign- 
lucut  about  to  arrive  and  the  remittance  of  the  money. 
Accompanying  this  order  was  an  urgent  but  most 
unnecessary  appeal  to  my  sympathies  in  behalf  of 
my  sister,  Mrs  Derby.  The  estate,  it  affirmed,  would 
net  little  else  than  the  property  in  my  hands,  without 
which  the  widow  and  children  must  suffer. 

Having  no  further  business  in  the  burned-out  mud- 
hole  of  Sacramento,  I  went  down  to  the  bay  and 
I  lilt  up  at  the  Rassette  house.  Kenny  was  with  me. 
I  was  deteimined,  whatever  the  cost,  that  Mrs  Derby 


134 


HAIL  CALIFORNIA!    ESTO  PERPETUA! 


should  have  the  full  amount  of  the  invoice,  with  com- 
missions added,  as  soon  as  tlie  goods  covdd  bo  con- 
verted into  nu»ney  and  the  proceeds  remitted  to  liei'. 
To  sell  in  that  market,  at  that  time,  a  miscellaneous 
assortment  of  l)0(»ks  and  stationery  in  one  lot,  without 
a  sacrifice,  was  impossible.     I  determined  thei'o  should 
\n)  no  sacrifice,  even  if  1  liad  to  peddle  the  stuff  from 
door  to  door.     I  posses.sed  only  one  hundred  and  fifty 
dollars,  the  result  of  my  services  at  Ivich  bar,    and 
l)euan  to  look  about  for  employment   till   tlie  jjfoods 
should    arrive.     At   none   of   the   several    book   and 
stationery  sho})s  in  town  was  thi-rc;  any  })rospect.     I 
was  thin,  young,  awkward,  bashful,  liad  no  address, 
and  was  slow  of  wit.     Jiesides,  merchants  were  sliy  of 
a  clerk  ^ith  shipments  of  goods  beliind  him;  for  why 
should  lie  <lesire  a  situation  except  to  learn  the  secrets 
of  Jiis  employer  and  then  use  thorn  to  his  own  ad- 
vantage?    1   explained  the  poverty  of  my  ])ros[)ect.s 
i!id  declared  the  i)U]itv  of  my  intentions.     All  was  in 
vain:   nobody  would  have  my  services,  oven  as  a  gilt. 
Mr  ivennv  was  nioi-e  fortunate.     In  hi:'  nature  wei'c 
blended  the  snxrifcr  in   iikk/o  and  the  Jorfi/cr  in    n'. 
He  was  older  than  1,  and  ])t)ssessed  of  an  Irish  tongue 
witlial;  he  ma<le  iViends  wherever  lie  went.     An  e(pi;il 
paitnershi))   was  offered  him   by  William   B.  C'ookc, 
who  had  lately  dissolved  witli  Josiah  J.   Le  Count, 
and  was  then  establishing  himself  anew  at  the  coi'm  r 
of  ^[erchant  and   Montgomery  streets.      The   terms 
were  that  Keimy  sliould  place  n])on  Cooke's  shells 
the  stock  sent  me;  that  the  proceeds  should   l)e  iv- 
mittt'd  east  as  fast  as  sales  were  made,  oi',  if  po.ssiblc, 
payment:^  sliould  be  even  I'aster  than  this;  in  any  event 
not  less  than  five  hundred  dollars  was  to  be  paid  "ii 
each  steamer  day.     I  must  shilt  for  myself;  but  llii-^ 
did  not  tr(»ul>le  mo.      I  readily  consi'iited,  sti|)ulati!:;4" 
(;nly  I'or  immediate  control   of  the  stock  if  the  liim 
did  not  remit  as  fast  as  promised.      In  no  surer  "i" 
(piicker  way  could  I  ivalizo  the  invoice  price  for  tlio 
whole  shi})nieiit,  and  this  was  now  my  chief  ambition. 


DARK  DAYS. 


13j 


Well,  the  goods  arrived,  and  the  firm  of  Cooke, 
Kenny,  and  Company  was  organized,  the  comj)any 
beinij:  a  youn^j  friend  of  jSIr  Cooke.  I  had  free  ac- 
(OSS  to  t!ie  premises,  and  watehed  matters  closely  foi" 
a  while.  Everything  went  on  satisfactorily,  and  the 
whole  amount  was  remitted  to  the  executors  of  Mr 
1  )cihy's  estate  according  to  agreement.  ^leanwhile  E 
had  npplied  myself  more  earnestly  than  ever  to  obtain 
wo;k  of  some  kind.  I  felt  obliged  to  stay  in  San 
I'rancisco  until  my  account  with  the  estate  was  settled, 
uiiwilliiig  to  trust  any  one  for  that,  and  I  greatly  j>re- 
tlired  remaining  in  the  city  altogether.  Klines  and 
the  miners,  and  country  trading  of  any  kind,  had  be- 
ciime  exceedingly  distasteful  to  me.  I  felt,  if  an  op- 
poitunity  were  offered,  that  I  would  prove  »:omj)etent 
and  i'aiihful  in  almost  any  capacity;  for  though  ditlideiit 
1  had  an  abundance  of  self-conceit,  or  at  least  of  sclf- 
rdiance,  and  would  do  anything.  Accustomed  to  work 
all  my  life,  idleness  was  to  me  tiic  j;;i'at.>st  of  atllic- 
tious.  ^ly  bones  ached  for  occupation  and  1  <ii\ii'd 
the  very  hod-caniers. 

Thus  for  six  months,  day  nfter  day,  I  tram])c;d  the 
stivets  of  San  Francisco  seeking  work,  and  i'ailed  t'> 
liiid  it.  Thousands  have  since  in  like  manner  applied 
to  1110,  and  remembering  how  the  harsh  refusals  onci^ 
rut  my  sensitive  nature,  I  trv  to  be  kind  to  ap[tlicauts 
of  whatsoever  degi'ee,  and  if  i.-t  alwavs  able  to  givo 
Wo,  k  I  can  at  least  offer  sympatliyaii^l  ;i.l\  ")''o.  Finally, 
si'k  with  disappointment,  1  determined  to  iea\«j  tho 
city:  not  for  the  Sierra  foothills;  rather  China,  or 
Australia.  The  choice  must  be  made  ([uickly,  for 
till'  last  dollar  from  Rich  bar  was  gone,  and  I  would 
int  live  on  othei's,  or  run  in  debt  with  nothing  where- 
wiih  to  pay.  Often  I  wandered  down  about  tho 
Siii|tpiiig  and  scanned  the  vessels  for  different  ports. 

I  know  little  of  the  various  parts  of  the  world,  and 
hi  1  little  choice  where  to  go.    My  future  turned  u[)oii 

II  hail'. 

Ill  the  spring  of  1853  the  San  Fi-ancisco  papers 


136 


HAIL  CALIFORNIA  1    ESTO  PERPETUA! 


began  to  notice  a  new  town  on  tlie  California  shore 
of  the  Pacific,  some  fifteen  or  twenty  miles  from  the 
Oregon  boundary  line.  Crescent  City  the  place  was 
called,  from  a  long  sweep  taken  by  the  shore  inward 
between  Trinidad  bay  and  Point  St  George;  indeed, 
there  was  then  much  more  crescent  than  city,  only 
a  few  tents  and  split-board  houses  stood  trembling 
between  the  sullen  roar  of  the  ocean  at  the  fi'ont 
door  and  the  ofttimes  whistlin<_j  wind  in  the  dense 
pine  forest  at  the  back  door  to  mark  the  site  of  the 
])i'ospective  commercial  metropolis  of  northern  Cali- 
fornia. On  both  sides  of  the  boundary  line  between 
Oregon  and  California  were  extensive  mining  districts, 
at  various  distances  from  the  coast,  access  to  which 
had  hitherto  been  from  Oregon  only  by  way  of  Port- 
land and  Scottsbury:,  and  from  the  Sacramento  vallev 
tlirough  Shasta.  Most  of  the  country  hereabout 
might  have  been  traversed  in  wagons  but  for  one 
dilhculty — there  were  no  wagon  roads;  consequently 
most  of  the  merchandise  carried  to  this  i)()rt  by 
.steamers  and  sailing  vessels  was  conveyed  into  the 
interior  on  the  backs  of  mules.  There  was  ])lenty  of 
good  agricultural  land  round  Crescent  City,  and  forests 
of  mauuificent  timber,  but  few  tliouixht  of  farminix  in 
those  days,  and  lumber  could  be  more  easily  obtained 
at  other  points  along  the  coast.  The  mines  and  the 
trade  with  them  ofi'ei'ed  the  chief  attractions  for  es- 
tablishiiiu:  a  citv.  Nor  was  it  to  dei)eud  so  nuich  on 
the  mines  ali-eady  discovered  as  on  those  which  were 
sure  to  be  fouml  as  soon  as  the  country  was  i'airly 
prospected.  The  color  of  gold,  they  said,  had  been 
seen  on  Smith  river,  only  twelve  miles  distant;  and 
farther  up,  at  Althouse  and  Jacksonville,  was  gold 
itself,  and  men  at  work  digging  for  it.  As  other  paits 
boasted  tlieir  Gold  lakes  and  Gold  blufls,  so  lieiv 
was  an  unsolved  mystery  wherein  gold  was  the  fitftil 
goddess — a  lone  cabin  that  men  talked  of  in  whispcis, 
where  treasure-diggers  long  since  departed  had  filKd 
bags,  and  bottles,  and  tin  cans  with  the  glittering 


CRESCENT  CITY. 


187 


dirt  that  made  glad  the  hearts  of  those  awaiting 
lliein  ill  their  eastern  homes.  Several  parties  went 
i)i  search  of  this  lone  cabin  at  various  times.  It  was 
L'onlidcntly  believed  that  some  day  it  would  be  found, 
mid  wlicn  that  day  should  come,  a  seaport  town,  M'ith 
railways,  wliarves,  and  shipping,  would  be  absolutely 
necessary  to  furnish  the  dierarers  in  that  vicinitv  with 
food  and  clothing,  tents,  strychnine  whiskey,  and 
j)luyiiig- cards,  antl  receive  and  export  for  the  honest 
luagiiatos  the  tons  of  heavy  yellow  stuff  which  they 
WDuld  shovel  up, 

Ivnowing  of  no  better  place,  I  determined  to  try 
my  Inrtune  at  Crescent  City;  so,  with  fifty  dollars 
Ittiirowed,  and  a  case  of  books  and  stationerv  bou<jflit 
oil  credit,  I  embarked  on  board  the  steamer  Colinnbia 
about  the  middle  of  May.  Two  days  and  one  night 
the  voyage  lasted — lonix  enousjrh,  with  the  crowded 
state  of  the  vessel  and  the  poor  comforts  at  my  coni- 
iiiaiid,  to  leave  me  on  landing  completely  prostrated 
with  sea-sickness  and  fatigue.  Taken  ashore  in  a 
wiiale-boat,  I  crawled  to  a  hc^tel  and  wont  to  bed.  ^[y 
bo\  w.iy  landed  in  a  lighter,  but  for  a  day  or  two  I 
iikkIo  no  attempt  at  business.  Adjoining  the  hotel 
was  tlie  general  merchandise  store  of  Crowell  and 
i'aiifield,  and  there  I  made  the  acquaintance  of  !Mr 
(Vowell,  which  resulted  in  mutual  conlideiice  and  es- 
trciii.  ]\rr  Faii'iield  was  then  absent  at  the  bay.  As 
oiir  rriciidship  increased,  ]\Ir  Crowell  occasionally  re- 
•  picsted  me  to  attend  the  store  during  his  absence,  and 
also  to  enter  in  the  day-book  sales  which  he  liad  made. 
At  length,  (HI  learning  my  j>urpose,  he  made  me  an 
oiler  of  jil'ty  <lollars  a  month  to  keep  his  bot)ks,  with 
the  |»iivilege  of  ])lacing  my  stock  on  his  shelves  and 
si  Hiiig  from  it  for  my  own  account  free  of  charge. 
I  'gladly  accepted,  and  was  soon  enrolled  as  book- 
ktt per  and  book-seller.  On  his  return  ^[r  l"\urlield 
latliicd  the  arrangeiiHMit,  and  we  were  evt.'r  after  the 
1"  I  of  friends.  As  I  sle)>t  in  the  store,  indulgcMJ  in 
liti  1  '  (lissipation,  and  was  not  extravagant  in  dress,  my 


I 


i 


1^- 


138 


HAIL  CALIFORNIA!    ESTO  PERPETUA! 


(ixpcnscs  were  very  light,  while  the  ])rofits  on  my 
goods,  which  I  sohl  only  lor  cash,  were  hiri^e.  Mean- 
while, as  the  business  of  the  tirni  auiL^niented  and  the 
duties  became  more  i-esponsible,  my  salary  was  from 
time  to  time  increased,  until  at  the  expiration  of 
eigliteen  months,  with  the  use  of  a  few  thousand 
dollai's  which  I  had  accumulated  aijd  allowed  to  re- 
main at  the  disposal  of  the  firm,  I  found  myself  the 
recipient  of  two  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  monthly. 
Some  six  months  later  the  firm  failed.  I  bou<;ht  a 
portion  of  the  stock  and  tried  merchandising  on  my 
own  account  for  a  short  time,  but  being  dissatisfied 
with  my  life  there,  I  disposed  of  the  business,  built  a 
one-stoiy  brick  store,  which  I  leased  to  some  hardware 
merchants,  and  leaving  my  affairs  in  the  hands  of  an 
atjent  I  went  down  to  San  Fiancisco. 

Though  it  was  a  trading  rather  than  a  mining  town, 
life  at  Crescent  City  was  in  most  respects  similar  t(» 
life  in  the  mines.  There  was  the  same  element  in  the 
community,  the  same  lack  of  virtuous  women,  the 
same  s[)ecies  of  gaming-houses,  drinking-saloons,  and 
dens  of  prostitution.  Florimel's  girdle  was  woin  by 
never  a  woman  there.  The  lleverend  Mr  Lacy,  after- 
ward pastor  of  the  first  congregational  society  in 
San  Francisco,  essayed  to  build  a  church  and  reform 
the  })eople,  but  his  efforts  were  attended  with  poor 
success. 

A  rancheria  of  natives  occu})ied  the  point  that 
formed  the  northern  liorn  of  the  Cri'scent,  and  with 
them  the  mild-maimcired  citizens  of  the  town  endeav- 
ored to  live  in  peace.  One  night  the  ranchei'ia  took 
fire,  an  unusual  thing  which  excited  some  conuuotioii. 
The  na+ives  thonglit  the  wliite  men  wished  to  burn 
them  out,  and  the  wliite  men  began  to  fear  the  ml 
men  intentled  to  overturn  evervthini''  ami  massaciv 
everybody,  beginning  with  the  destruction  of  thcii' 
own  houses.  MOrniiig,  however,  threw  light  upon 
the  matter.  It  aj)pears  a  drunken  white  man,  thf 
night  before,  had  taken  lodgings  in  a  native  hut,  and 


THE  XOBLE  TOPERS  OF  THE  CRESCENT. 


139 


fooling  cold,  in  the  absence  of  the  accustomed  alcoholic 
liros  he  built  a  tire  of  wood  to  warm  himself  witluil; 
hut  being  drunk,  he  built  it  after  the  white  man's 
fashion,  at  one  end  of  the  room  against  the  bark 
hoards  of  the  house,  and  not  where  the  sober  savage 
WDuld  have  placed  it,  in  the  centre  of  the  room.  The 
pionoer  citizens  of  the  Crescent  were  orderly,  woll 
moaning  men,  who  prided  themselves  on  em[)tying  a 
ti\'o-gallon  keg  of  the  most  fiery  spirits  San  Francisco 
CDuld  send  them,  and  on  carrying  it  resj)ectably,  with 
(yos  open,  head  up,  and  tongue  capable  of  articu- 
lating, even  though  it  did  thicken  and  crisp  a  little 
.sometimes  toward  morning  after  a  night  at  })oker. 
They  could  not  therefore  silently  pass  by  the  affront 
cast  on  their  dusky  neighbors  by  an  unworthy  niem- 
l)or  of  their  own  color;  and  in  the  absence  of  a  court 
of  law  they  held  a  court  of  incpiiry,  followed  by  a 
court  of  retort,  requiring  the  vile  white  man  who 
I'ould  not  di'ink  without  making  himself  drunk,  first 
to  ])ay  the  natives  blankets,  beads,  and  knives  enough 
to  I'ully  satisfy  them  for  loss  and  damage  to  thoir 
|ti'opi'rty,  and  then  to  leave  the  place.  Well  begun, 
ni>blo  topers  of  the  Crescent,  who  would  not  see  even 
tlio  })oor  savages  at  their  door  wronged  by  one  of 
tlu'ir  number! 

The  two  and  a  half  years  I  spent  at  Crescent  Citv 
wore  worse  than  thrown  awav,  although  I  did  accu- 
iiiulato  some  six  or  eight  thousand  dollars.  Witli 
ail  abundance  of  time  on  my  hands,  T  road  littli^  l)ut 
trashy  novels,  and  thouiifh  from  my  diffidonce  I  did  ii<^t 
iiiinglo  greatly  with  the  people,  I  inqirovcd  my  mind 
no  bettor  than  they.  One  bosom  fViond  I  had,  Tho(»- 
iloic  S.  Pomeroy,county  clerk  and  editor  of  the  Ifci-a/'/, 
I'lobably  the  most  intoliigont  man  in  the  })laco,  and 
much  of  ni}'  time  outside  of  business  I  s})ent  with  him 
at  caids  oi-  billiards.  On  Sundays  there  was  hoi-so- 
rariiig,  or  foot-racing,  or  cock-tighting  on  the  l)oach ; 
ami  (tfton  a  band  (tf  rowdies,  composed  of  the  most 
Kspectable  citizens,would  start  out  at  anytime  between 


140 


HAIL  CALIFORNIA!    ESTO  PERPETUA! 


t; 


n 


H 


midnight  and  daybreak,  and  with  horns,  tin  pans,  and 
gongs,  make  tho  round  of  the  place,  pounding  at  every 
door,  and  compelling  the  occupant  to  arise,  administer 
drink  to  all,  and  join  the  jovial  company.  Knives  and 
})istols  were  almost  universall}^  carried  and  recklessly 
used.  In  a  drunken  brawl  a  man  was  shot  dead  one 
night  in  front  of  my  store.  I  did  not  rush  out  with 
others  to  witness  the  scene,  and  so  saved  myself  a 
month's  time,  and  the  heavy  expenses  of  a  journey 
to  Yreka  to  attend  the  trial  of  the  murderer.  During 
my  residence  at  this  place  I  made  several  trips  on 
business  to  San  Francisco,  and  on  the  whole  managed 
my  affairs  with  prudence  and  economy.  I  well  remem- 
ber the  first  five  hundred  dollars  I  made.  The  sum 
was  deposited  with  Page,  Bacon,  and  company,  so 
that  whatever  befell  me  I  misjfht  have  that  amount 
to  carry  me  back  to  my  friends,  for  I  never  ceased 
longing  to  see  them.  Fortunately,  Crowell  and  Fair- 
field being  in  need  of  money,  I  drew  it  out  for  their 
use  just  before  the  bank  failed.  I  have  never  felt  so 
rich  before  or  since.  Havinsf  cfreat  faith  in  the  ulti- 
mate  growth  of  Crescent  City,  I  invested  my  earnings 
tliere,  though  after  the  lapse  of  several  years  I  was 
glad  to  realize  at  thirty  cents  on  the  dollar. 

My  sisters  had  often  urged  me  strongly  to  return 
to  the  east.  INIrs  Derby,  particulail}^  was  quite  alone, 
and  she  wished  me  to  come,  and  if  possible  settle 
permanently  near  her.  I  now  felt  quite  independent, 
and  consequently  proud  and  happy,  for  my  brick  store 
at  Crescent  City,  worth,  as  I  counted  it,  eight  thou- 
sand dollars,  and  rented  for  two  hundred  and  fifty 
dollars  a  month,  seemed  at  that  time  sufficient  to 
make  me  comfortable  without  work.  Hence  I  re- 
solved to  go  home — the  eastern  side  was  always 
home  then,  whether  one  lived  there  or  not — and 
my  friend  Pomeroy  promised  to  accompany  me.  My 
object  was  to  visit  friends  and  make  plans  for  the 
future;   his  was  to  marry  a  woman  of  Albany,  with 


VISIT  TO  THE  EAST. 


141 


whom  he  had  opened  correspondence  and  made  a 
matrimonial  engagement  through  the  medium  of  a 
friend,  a  female  friend  of  course,  living  in  San  Fran- 
cisco. The  firm  of  Cooke,  Kenny,  and  company  hail 
failed,  from  lack  of  capital,  and  Mr  Kenny,  who  in 
tlic  mean  time  had  married  an  estimable  woman,  was 
doing  business  for  another  house.  Often  have  I 
thouo'ht  how  fortunate  it  w^as  that  I  did  not  start 
in  Inisiness  at  San  Francisco  or  Sacramento  at  that 
time,  since  the  inevitable  result  would  have  been 
failure.  As  I  have  said,  almost  every  firm  then  doing 
l)usiness  failed;  and  if  men  with  capital  and  experi- 
ence, with  a  large  trade  already  established,  could  not 
succeed,  how  could  I  expect  to  do  so?  In  November, 
1855,  with  Mr  Pomeroy  as  a  companion,  I  sailed  from 
San  Francisco  for  New  York,  where  we  safely  arrived, 
and  shortly  after  separated  for  the  homes  of  our 
respective  friends. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE  HOUSE  OF  H.  H.  BANCROFT  AND  COMPANY. 

Seest  thou  a  mnn  diligent  in  business,  he  shall  stand  before  kings;  lie 
sluill  not  stand  before  mean  men. 

Proverbs. 

Home  again  1  None  but  a  wanderer,  ond  a  voutliful 
wanderer,  can  feci  those  words  in  tlieir  fullest  import. 
Back  from  the  first  three  years  in  California.  Out 
of  tlio  depths  and  into  paradise.  Away  from  har- 
assing cares,  from  the  discordant  contentions  of 
inoney-gettiiig,  from  the  contaminations  of  filthy  de- 
baucheries, beyond  the  shot  of  pistol  or  reach  of 
bowie-knife,  safe  liome,  there  let  ine  rest.  Nor  docs 
tlie  prestige  of  success  lessen  the  pleasure  of  the  re- 
turned Californian.  Even  our  warmest  friends  are 
human.  Those  who  would  nurse  us  most  kindly  in 
sickness,  who  would  spare  no  self-denial  for  our  com- 
fort, who,  unworthy  as  we  might  be  of  their  affection, 
would  die  for  us  if  necessary,  the  hearts  of  even  these 
in  tlieir  thanksgiving  are  warmed  with  pride  if  to 
their  welcome  they  may  add  "Well  done!" 

How  the  snappish  frosty  air  tingles  the  blood,  and 
lightens  the  feet,  and  braces  the  sinews.  How  white 
the  soft  snow  resting  silently  on  trees  and  lawn,  and 
how  the  music  of  the  bells  rings  in  the  heart  the  re- 
membrance of  old  time  merrjanakings !  Rosy-cheeked 
>irls,  muffled  in  woollens  and  furs,  frolic  their  wav 
to  school,  filling  the  clear  cold  air  with  their  musical 
laughter,  and  blooming  young  ladies  grace  the  side- 
walk in  such  numbers  as  would  turn  a  mining  camp 
topsy-turvy  for  a  month.  Oysters!  How  the  whilom 
bean- and -Ijacon  eaters  regale   themielves!     First  a 

(1*2) 


\l':V 


OYSTKRS  A\D  PRETTY  GIRLS. 


143 


raw,  then  a  stew,  then  a  fry,  and  tlien  a  raw  a«xain. 
Tn  hvc  in  a  liouso,  oat  with  people,  lounge  in  elegantly 
liiiiiished  parlors — it  is  very  pleasant,  but  a  little 
(lise.  The  Sundays,  how  quiet  they  arc;  no  one 
jiltroad,  no  trafficking,  no  rcvehy!  And  then  to  go  to 
(•liiireh,  and  sit  in  the  old  family  pew,  and  meet  the 
g;iz(»  of  faces  familiar  from  boyhood.  How  nmch 
smaller  things  appear  than  of  old.  The  ancients  of 
llic  church  are  plainer  in  their  apparel  and  simpler  in 
tlitir  features  than  they  used  to  bo,  and  the  minister  is 
.1  little  more  prosy  and  peculiar.  But  the  girls,  ah  I 
there's  the  rub.  Innnediately  on  my  arrival  I  fell  in 
love  with  half  a  dozen,  and,  bashful  as  I  was,  would  have 
iiianied  one  upon  the  spot,  had  not  her  father  fancied 
ii  young  man  whose  father's  property  was  in  New  York, 
ill  ])reference  to  one  who  possessetl  something  of  his 
o\\  n  at  Crescent  City.  And  how  the  men,  and  women, 
and  children  all  eyed  me;  one  saying,  "You  are  not 
a  bear,"  and  another,  "I  do  not  see  but  that  vou  look 
vciy  like  other  people."  The  impression  seemed  to 
lucvail  at  the  east  in  those  davs  that  a  Calilbrnian 
iiiuld  not  be  otherwise  than  brown  and  bearded,  and 
nxigli  and  red-shirted.  I  was  still  a  pale,  thin,  timid 
Itoy,  though  I  had  passed  through  furnace  lires  enough 
to  deeper  bronze  or  blacken  Mephistopheles. 

1  found  my  sister  Mrs  Derby,  M'ith  her  three 
(laughters,  cosily  keeping  house  in  Aubui'n,  New 
\ oik.  INIy  youngest  sister,  Mary,  was  with  her.  Soon 
^frs  Palmer,  my  second  sister,  came  down  from  ]iuf- 
f"al( )  to  see  her  Californian brother.  It  was  a  happy  meet- 
ill^.  though  saddened  by  the  recollection  of  irre[)arable 
(lisru]»tions.  Between  Auburn  and  Buffalo  I  }mssed 
tlic  winter  delightfully,  and  in  the  spring  visited  my 
IVicuds  in  Granville.  I  tried  my  best  to  like  it  at  tlie 
easi,  to  make  up  my  mind  to  abandon  California  and 
settle  permanently  in  Buffalo  or  New  York,  to  be  a 
coin  fort  to  my  sisters,  and  a  solace  to  my  parents;  but 
the  western  coast,  with  all  its  rough  hardships  and 
iiiilM'tuous  faults  so  fascinating,  had  fastened  itself 


144 


THE  HOUSE  OF  H.  H.  BANCROFT  AND  COMPANY. 


il 


I' 


1  ! 


mw 


J 


too  stronj^ly  upon  mo  to  bo  shaken  off.  And  so  roiinri 
many  a  poor  pilgrim  California  has  thrown  her  witcii- 
eries,  drawinij^  him  back  to  her  brijjht  shores  whenever 
he  attempted  to  leave  them,  like  the  magnetic  moun- 
tain of  Arabian  story,  which  drew  the  nails  from  any 
ship  tliat  approached  it.  If  the  nails  from  the  vessels 
entering  the  Golden  Gate  were  not  so  drawn  by  the 
metal -veined  sierra  the  men  were,  for  only  too  often 
they  left  the  ships  tenantless  and  unmanageable  hulks. 
The  east,  as  compared  with  the  west,  was  very  com- 
fortable, very  cultivated,  soothing  to  the  senses  and 
refining  to  the  intelligence;  but  society  was  so  proper, 
so  particular,  and  business  ways  seemed  stale  and 
flat. 

Suddenly  in  April,  185G,  I  made  up  my  mind  no 
lontjer  to  remain  there.  I  had  visited  cnoujjh  and 
wasted  tmie  enough.  I  was  impatient  to  be  doing. 
So,  without  saying  a  word  at  first,  I  packed  my  trunli, 
and  then  told  my  sister  of  the  resolve.  I  appreci- 
ated her  kindness  most  fully.  I  regretted  leaving 
her  more  than  words  could  tell,  but  I  felt  that  1  must 
go;  there  was  that  in  California  which  harmonized 
with  my  aspirations  and  drew  forth  energies  which 
elsewhere  would  remain  dormant.     I  must  be  up  and 


doing. 


On  one  side  of  the  continent  all  was  new,  all 
was  to  be  done;  on  the  other  side  beginnings  were 
pretty  well  over.  To  the  satisfied  and  unambitious 
an  eastern  or  European  life  of  dolce  far  niente  might 
be  delicious;  to  me  if  I  h.id  millions  it  would  bo  tor- 
ment. The  mill  must  needs  grind,  for  so  the  makii" 
ordained ;  if  wheat  be  thrown  into  the  hopper  it  sends 
forth  fine  flour,  but  if  unfed  it  still  grinds,  until  it 
grinds  itself  away.  I  must  be  something  of  mvsclf, 
and  do  something  by  myself;  it  is  the  Me,  and  not 
money,  that  cries  for  activity  and  development. 

"One  thing  do  for  me,"  said  my  sister,  "and  you 
may  go." 

"I  will;  what  is  it?" 


1 


THE  RESOLVE  OF  MY  SISTER, 


145 


"  You  remember  the  money  sent  from  California  in 
return  for  goods  shipped  by  Mr  Derby?" 

"Yes." 

"  The  money  is  now  so  invested  that  I  am  fearful 
of  losing  it.  Help  me  to  get  it,  then  take  it  and  use 
it  in  any  way  you  think  best." 

"  I  will  help  you  to  get  it,"  said  I,  "most  certainly, 
but  I  could  not  sleep  knowing  that  your  comfort  de- 
pended on  my  success.  I  may  be  honest  and  capable, 
and  yet  fail.  I  may  woo  fortune  but  I  cannot  com- 
manil  her.  The  risk  is  altogether  too  great  for  you 
to  take." 

"  Nevertheless  I  will  take  it,"  replied  my  noble 
sister,  and  in  that  decision  she  decided  my  destiny. 

How  a  seemingly  small  thing,  as  we  have  before 
remarked,  will  sometimes  turn  the  current,  not  only 
of  a  man's  own  future  life,  but  that  of  his  friends,  his 
family,  and  multitudes  who  shall  come  after  him.  In 
this  womanish  resolve  of  my  sister — womanish  because 
prompted  by  the  heart  rather  than  by  the  head — the 
destinies  of  many  hundreds  of  men  and  women  were 
wrapped.  By  it  my  whole  career  in  California  was 
changed,  and  with  mine  that  of  my  father's  entire 
family.  Herein  is  another  cause,  if  we  choose  to  call 
it  so,  of  my  embarking  in  literature.  I  hesitated  yet 
further  about  taking  the  money,  but  finally  concluded 
that  I  might  keep  it  safely  for  her;  if  not,  there  was 
yet  the  Crescent  City  property  to  fall  back  upon. 

After  some  little  difficulty  we  succeeded  in  drawing 
the  money,  five  thousand  five  hundred  dollars,  which 
sum  was  placed  in  my  hands.  I  then  asked  her  if  she 
would  accept  a  partnership  in  my  proposed  under- 
taking; but  she  answered  no,  she  would  prefer  my  note, 
made  payable  in  five  or  six  years,  with  interest  at  the 
rate  of  one  per  cent  a  month. 

Now  it  was  that  I  determined  to  execute  the  origi- 
nal plan  formed  by  Mr  Derby,  in  pursuance  of  which 
I  first  went  to  California;  and  that  with  the  very 
money,  I  might  say,  employed  by  him,  this  being  the 


Lit.  Ivo.   10 


146 


THE  HOUSE  OF  H.  II.  BANCROFT  AND  rOMPANY. 


M  ■' 

Ml 


I 


li:! 


m 


exact  amount  of  his  original  shipments — only,  I  would 
lay  the  foundations  broader  than  he  had  done,  estab- 
lish at  once  a  credit,  for  without  that  my  capital  wouJ»  I 
not  go  far,  and  plant  myself  in  San  Francisco  with 
aspirations  high  and  determination  fixed,  as  became 
«)ne  who  would  win  or  die  in  the  first  city  of  thu 
Pacific  seaboard. 

There  was  a  man  in  New  York,  Mr  John  0.  Barnes, 
who  had  been  a  warm  friend  of  Mr  Derby,  To  him 
my  sister  gave  a  letter  of  introduction,  with  whicli. 
and  drafts  for  fifty-five  hundred  dollars,  she  sent  nic 
forth  to  seek  my  fortune.  Mr  Barnes  was  paitner  in 
the  large  stationery  house  of  Ames,  Herrick,  ]>arn(  s. 
and  Rhoads,  75  John  street.  I  found  liini  vciy 
affable,  stated  to  iiim  my  plans,  deposited  M'ith  liiiii 
my  drafts,  and  received  the  assurance  that  everytliiiiL;' 
possible  should  be  done  to  foi'ward  my  wishes.  First 
of  all,  I  wanted  to  establish  business  relations  withtliii 
leading  publishers  of  the  east.  I  wanted  the  lowest 
])rices  and  the  longest  time — the  lowest  prices  so  that 
the  advance  I  was  necessarily  obliged  to  add  should 
not  place  my  stock  beyond  the  reach  of  consumers, 
aiid  the  longest  time  because  four  or  six  months  were 
occupied  in  transportation. 

California  credit  in  New  York  at  that  time  rated 
low,  as  elsewhere  I  have  observed.  Nearly  every  ono 
I  met  had  lost,  some  of  them  very  heavily,  either  by 
flood,  or  fire,  or  failure.  Some  of  their  customers  had 
proved  dishonest,  others  unfortunate,  and  a  curst; 
seemed  attached  to  the  country  from  which  at  one 
time  so  nmch  had  been  expected.  I  told  tliem  I  was 
starting  fresh,  untrammelled,  with  everything  in  my 
favor,  and  I  believed  I  could  succeed;  that  they  had 
met  with  dishonest  men  did  not  prove  every  man  dis- 
honest; and  because  they  had  lost  it  did  not  follow 
that  they  were  always  sure  to  lose.  I  might  have 
added,  if  at  that  time  I  had  known  enough  of  the 
manner  of  eastern  merchants  in  dealing  with  the 
California  market,  that  for  nine  tenths  of  their  losses 


C/VLIFORXIAN  CRF:DIT. 


147 


tlioy  liad  only  themselves  to  blame,  for  after  selling 
to  legitimate  dealers  all  the  goods  necessary  for  the 
iiill  supply  of  the  market,  they  would  throw  into  auc- 
tion on  their  own  account  in  San  Francisco  such 
((uantities  of  merchandise  as  would  break  prices  and 
nitail  loss  on  themselves  and  ruin  on  their  customers. 
All  the  blame  attending  California  credit  did  not  be- 
long to  Californians,  although  the  disgrace  might  be 
laid  only  on  them;  but  the  shippers  of  New  York  and 
lioston  knew  a  trick  or  two  as  well  as  the  merchants 
ol'  San  Francisco. 

At  all  events,  before  these  angry  croakers  decided 
against  me,  or  persisted  in  their  tixed  purpose  never  to 
S(,ll  ;i  dollar's  worth  of  goods  to  California  without  first 
reeoiving  the  dollar,  I  begged  them  to  see  Mr  Barnes 
and  ascertain  what  he  thought  of  it.  Tiiis  they  were 
ready  to  promise,  if  nothing  more;  and  the  conse- 
quence was  that  when  I  called  the  second  time  al- 
most every  one  was  ready  to  sell  i.ie  all  the  goods 
I  would  buy.  From  that  day  my  credit  was  estab- 
lished, becoming  firmer  wit'i  time,  and  ever  afterward 
it  was  my  first  and  constant  care  to  keep  it  good.  "A 
good  credit,  but  used  sparingly;"  that  was  my  motto. 
At  this  time  I  did  not  buy  largely,  only  about  ten 
thousand  dollars'  worth,  j)referring  to  wait  till  I  be- 
came better  acquainted  with  the  market  before  order- 
ing heavily.  This  was  in  June.  My  goods  shipped, 
1  returned  to  Auburn,  there  to  spend  the  few  months 
] tending  the  passage  of  the  vessel  round  Cape  Horn 
rather  than  await  its  arrival  in  California.  And  very 
]>leasantly  passed  this  time  with  the  blood  warm  and 
liojie  high. 


October  saw  me  aijain  en  route  for  San  Francisco. 
1  lound  Mr  Kenny  occupying  his  old  store  with  a 
small  stock  of  goods  belonging  to  Mr  Le  Count.  I 
told  him  to  settle  his  business  and  come  with  me, 
and  he  did  so.  We  engaged  the  room  adjoining,  being 
in  the  building  of  Naglee,  the  brandymaker,  near  the 


I 


I 


i  I 


148 


THE  HOUSE  OF  H.  H.  BANCROFT  AND  COMPANY. 


corner  of  Montgomery  and  Merchant  streets,  where 
ten  years  before  a  yerba-buena  bordered  sand-bank 
was  washed  by  the  tide- waters  of  the  bay.  Our  stock 
arriving  shortly  after  in  good  order,  we  opened  it  and 
began  business  under  the  firm  name  of  H.  H.  Ban- 
croft and  Company  about  the  first  of  December,  18y(!. 
There  was  nothing  pecuhar  in  the  shop,  its  contents, 
business,  or  proprietors,  that  I  am  aware  of  Durin^i 
the  closing  months  of  the  year,  and  the  opening 
months  of  the  year  following,  the  inside  was  exposed 
to  the  weather  while  the  build intf  was  taking  on  u 
new  front;  but  in  such  a  climate  this  was  no  hard- 
ship. At  night  we  closed  the  opening  witli  empty 
boxes,  and  I  turned  into  a  cot  bed  under  the  counter 
to  sleep;  in  the  morning  I  arose,  removed  the  boxes, 
swept  the  premises,  put  the  stock  in  order,  breakfasted, 
and  was  then  ready  to  post  books,  sell  goods,  or  can-y 
bundles,  according  to  the  requirements  of  the  hour. 
We  let  two  oflicos,  one  to  Mr  Woods,  the  broker,  and 
one  to  Jonathan  Hunt,  insurance  agent,  and  thus  re- 
duced our  rent  one  third,  the  orisjinal  sum  beino*  t\\o 
hundred  and  fifty  dollars  a  month.  With  the  constant 
fear  of  failure  before  mo,  I  worked  and  watched  un- 
ceasingl}'.  Mr  Kenny  was  salesman,  for  he  was  much 
more  familiar  with  the  business  than  I;  he  possessed 
many  friends  and  had  already  a  good  trade  estab- 
lished. Affairs  progressed  smoothly ;  we  worked  hanl 
and  made  money,  iirst  slowly,  then  faster.  Times  were 
exceedingly  dull.  Year  after  year  the  gold  crop  had 
diminished;  or  if  not  diminished,  it  required  twice  the 
labor  and  capital  to  produce  former  results.  Stocks 
had  accumulated,  merchants  had  fallen  in  arrears,  ami 
business  depression  was  far  greater  than  at  any  time 
since  the  discovery  of  gold.  In  the  vernacular  of  the 
day,  trade  had  touched  bottom.  But  hard  times  ure 
the  very  best  of  times  in  which  to  plant  and  nourish 
a  permanent  business.  Hard  times  lead  to  careful 
trading  and  thrift;  flush  times  to  recklessness  und 
overdoing.    On  every  side  of  us  old  firms  were  falling 


BUSINESS   CHANCES. 


149 


to  pieces,  and  old  merchants  were  forced  out  of  busi- 
ness. The  term  'old'  was  then  applied  to  firms  of 
tivo  or  six  years'  standing.  This  made  me  all  the 
more  nervous  about  success.  But  we  had  every  ad- 
vantage; our  stock  was  good  and  well  bought,  our 
eicdit  excellent,  our  expenses  light,  and  gradually  the 
Imsiuess  grew. 

Towartl  the  end  of  the  first  year  the  idea  struck  me 
that  I  might  use  my  credit  further,  without  assuming 
much  more  responsibility,  by  obtaining  consignments 
of  goods  in  place  of  buying  large  quantities  outright. 
But  this  would  involve  my  going  east  to  make  the 
jnrangements,  and,  as  Mr  Kenny  would  thus  be  left 
alone,  I  proposed  to  Mr  Hunt,  whose  acquaintance 
had  ripened  into  friendship,  to  join  us,  contribute  a 
cortain  amount  of  capital,  and  take  a  third  interest 
m  the  partnership.  The  proposition  was  accepted, 
^fr  Hunt  came  into  the  firm,  the  name  of  which  re- 
mained unchanged,  and  soon  after,  that  is  to  say  in 
the  autumn  of  1857,  I  sailed  for  New  York.  My 
|ilaii  was  successful.  I  readily  obtained  goods  on  the 
terms  asked  to  the  amount  of  sixty  or  seventy  thou- 
sand dollars,  which  added  largely  to  our  facilities. 

IJotbre  returning  to  California,  which  was  in  the 
spring  of  1858,  I  visited  my  parents,  then  living  as 
liapiiily  as  ever  in  Granville.  My  views  of  life  had 
<liaiiL;ed  somewhat  since  I  had  left  my  boyhood  home, 
and  later  tiiey  chaiigod  still  more.  1  was  well  enough 
>aiistii(l  then  with  the  choice  I  had  made  in  foreu'oiiitj: 
tlif  lu'nefits  of  a  college  course,  and  my  mind  is  nmch 
mote  clear  upon  the  .subject  now  than  then. 

Were  a  boy  of  mine  to  ask  me  t(t-day,  "Shall  I  vn- 
\ry  college  f  I  should  iiKjuire,  "  For  what  |nn|»o.se? 
\\  hat  do  you  intend  to  do  or  to  be?  Are  vou  satis- 
til  d  with  your  position  and  po.sse.ssions,  or  shall  you 
drsirc  tame  or  wealth  (  If  tlie  former,  then  in  what 
diivction  (     Have  you  a  taste  for  lanuuaijes  and  liter- 


atui 


mid 


would  you  he  a  pri'aclier,  t)r  proiessor,  or  presi- 
iil  of  a  university ;  has  statesmanship  attractions  for 


150       THK    HOUSE  OF   H.  H,  BANlUOFT  AND  COMPANY. 


1    -: 


you — tho  pure  and  unadulterated  article  I  moan,  not 
demaj^ogisni,  or  tho  ordinary  path  of  tho  politician^ 
If  so,  a  classical  education,  as  a  tool  of  the  tradi', 
might  be  of  use  to  you.  But  for  almost  anything 
else  it  would  be  a  downright  disadvantage,  the  time 
s})ent  upon  it  being  worse  than  thrown  away.  1 
know  yt)U  would  not  be  a  clergymen ;  you  love  the 
natural  and  truthful  too  well.  You  would  not  be  a 
lawyer,  having  no  mental  or  moral  abilities  to  sell  for 
money;  you  could  nut  reduce  the  ecjuities  wholly  to 
a  traffic,  or  study  law  that  with  it  you  may  .spend 
your  life  in  defeating  the  ends  of  justice,  or  jjIucc 
yourself  in  a  position  where  you  are  expected  to  ad- 
vocate either  side  of  any  proposition  for  pay.  You 
would  not  adopt  a  profession  based  upon  butchering 
principles,  or  spend  your  life  wrangling  for  money  in 
the  quarrels  of  other  men.  In  regard  to  the  calling 
of  the  medical  man,  while  it  is  not  ignoble,  I  do  not 
imagine  that  you  have  any  fancy  that  way."  "Well. 
then,  a  scientific  course  f'  I  should  sav  that  might 
do;  but  would  it  not  be  well  for  the  young  man  first  to 
think  it  over  a  little,  and  determine— not  irrevocablv, 
but  as  far  as  an  intelligent  youth  with  some  degree  ot' 
an  under.standing  of  himself  can  roasonabl}^  do — what 
calling  or  pursuit  in  life  ho  would  like  to  follow,  and 
then  stutly  with  that  end  in  view  i  To  bo  a  black- 
smith, the  wise  boy  will  scarcely  ap[)rentice  himself  to 
a  shoemaker.  If  his  ambition  is  to  be  a  great  artist, 
he  will  not  spend  tho  best  portions  of  his  best  days 
in  nmsic  or  oratory.  If  wealth  is  his  object,  a  com- 
mercial or  industrial  career  is  the  place  for  him;  atxl 
if  ho  would  do  his  best,  ho  will  begin  upon  it  enil\ . 
and  let  colleges  alone  altogether.  Often  is  the  i\\\v<- 
tion  asked,  but  seldom  answered,  "Whore  are  your 
college  men?"  Few  of  them,  indeed,  put  in  an  ii[>- 
pcarancc  among  those  who  move  the  world  or  conduit 
the  great  atlairs  of  life. 

In  all  this  that  relates  to  a  calling  and  a  career,  it 
is  well   to  consider  our  point  of  view,  whether  our 


LOVE  AND  fJOPLINESS. 


ini 


oliief  purjioso  is  to  bo  or  to  do,  to  fonimlato  or  be 
I'miimlatccl.  It  is  one  tliincf  to  niako  moiicv,  and 
quite  another  to  be  made  by  money. 

While  stopping  in  Buffalo  once  more  I  made  the 
,'it(]uaintance  of  Miss  Emily  Ketclium,  daughter  of 
a  iiighly  respected  and  prominent  citizen  of  the 
jilacc,  and  of  whom  my  sister  ]\rrs  Palmer  was  loud  in 
I  liaise.  Her  face  was  not  what  one  would  call  beau- 
t  i In  1,  but  it  was  very  refined,  very  sweet.  She  was  tall, 
w  ith  light  hair  and  eyes,  exquisitely  formed,  and  very 
l;i acet'ul.  Her  mind  was  far  above  the  average  female 
iulilloct,  and  well  cultivated;  she  was  exceedingly 
Iti  iglii  in  conversation,  and  with  a  ready  wit  possessed 
k(  111  conmion-scnse.  Her  well  trained  voice  in  sing- 
iii'j  was  one  of  the  sweetest  I  ever  heard.  I  was 
captivated  and  soon  determined  to  marry  her — if  I 
cniild.  My  time  was  short;  I  must  return  to  my 
all'airs  immediately.  We  had  not  met  half  a  <lozen 
times  before  I  called  one  afternoon  to  sav  good-bv. 
She  was  entirely  unconscious  of  having  aroused  any 
special  interest  in  me,  and  as  a  matter  of  course  I 
cduld  not  then  make  a  proposal. 

What  to  do  I  did  not  know.  I  could  not  leave 
matters  as  they  were  and  go  back  to  California  to  be 
ahscnt  })erhaps  for  years,  and  yet  I  could  not  speak 
my  heart.  I  dared  not  even  ask  if  I  might  write,  lest 
1  should  frighten  her.  At  last  fortune  came  to  mv 
It  lief.  The  young  woman  had  lately  become  deeply 
iuteivsted  in  religion,  was  a  new  convert,  as  she  said, 
tlnuigh  her  whole  life  had  been  one  of  the  strictest 
ii  li^ious  training.  Naturally  she  was  keen  for  prose- 
lytes, and  evidently  took  me  for  a  heathen,  one  of 
till'  worst  sort,  a  California  heathen.  Zealously  she 
attacked  me,  therefore,  her  eyes  sparkling,  her  cheeks 
!L;l't\viiig,lier  whole  soul  lit  with  inspiration  in  proclaim- 
ing the  l>lessedness  of  her  I'aith.  I  listened  attentively ; 
1  <<»uld  have  listened  had  she  been  demonstrating  a 
pinl)k'ni  in  Euclid,  or  talking  of  Queen  Victoria's  new 


152 


THE  HOUSE  OF  H.  H.  BANCROFT  AXD  COMPANY. 


bonnet.  After  a  throe  hours'  session,  during  which 
by  dropping  here  and  there  a  penitent  word  the  fire 
of  her  enthusiasm  had  been  kept  ablaze,  I  rose  to 
take  ni}'  leave. 

"Absorbed  in  business  as  I  am,"  I  said,  "away  from 
home  and  its  hallowing  influences,  worship  is  neglected 
and  piety  grows  cold.  Had  I  you  to  icmind  me  of 
my  duty  now  and  then  I  might  do  better." 

"Would  that  I  could  be  of  such  assistance  to  you," 
she  replied. 

"You  can." 

"How?"  she  asked. 

"  Write  me  occasionally." 

"  I  will,"  was  the  prompt  response. 

It  was  enough,  more  than  I  had  expected,  better 
than  I  could  have  hoped  for:  I  had  her  promise  to 
write — little  cared  I  what  she  wrote  about — and  then, 
of  course,  I  could  write  to  her.  My  heart  was  light, 
the  barrier  of  conventionalism  was  broken. 

Xor  did  I  forget  her  sermon.  I  remembered  it  on 
the  railway  journey  to  New  York;  I  remembered  it 
on  the  steamer  deck,  down  in  the  tropics,  as  I  gazed 
up  into  the  starlit  sky  and  thought  of  her  and  her 
sweet  words.  And  I  vowed  to  be  a  better  man,  one 
more  worthy  of  her.  I  remembered  it  when  on  reach- 
ing San  Francisco  I  put  my  l)rains  in  my  pocket  and 
joined  tlie  good  people  of  Calvary  cliuroh  in  tlieir 
march  heavenward.  I  remembered  it  at  the  Sabbath- 
school  where  I  taught,  at  the  prayer-meetings  which 
I  attended.  All  through  the  i-(>ligious  life  which  for 
the  next  ten  years  I  so  strictly  led  I  never  forgot 
her,  for  she  was  with  me,  with  her  holy  living  and 
that  dear  love  and  fond  devotion  of  which  in  part 
she  robbed  God  to  bestow  on  me. 

Indeed  anil  in  truth  I  was  earnest  in  my  professioii 
both  of  love  and  of  godliness ;  and  my  love  was  crowned 
with  success,  for  during  the  next  visit  east  I  married 
Kmily  Ketchum.  My  godliness,  ubi  Icqysiis?  For 
ten  years  I  was  of  the  strictest  sect  a  devotee.    I 


MARRIAGE. 


153 


paid  tithes,  attended  to  all  the  ordinances  of  religion, 
would  not  even  look  at  a  secular  newspaper  on  the 
sabbath;  I  sank  my  reason  in  reasonless  dogmas,  and 
))liudly  abandoned  myself  to  blind  teachers.  Of  a 
verity  mine  was  iho  Jides  carbonarii;  I  believed  what 
tlie  cliurch  believed,  and  the  church  believed  what  I 
believed.  Now,  what  I  believe  God  knoweth;  what 
the  church  believes  God  knoweth.  Belief  is  based  on 
blindness:  faith  in  things  unseen  and  unknown  is 
made  a  merit;  reason  is  repudiated,  but  mine  will 
work  whether  I  will  or  no. 


I  will  only  glance  over  the  leading  events  of  the 
next  twelve  years,  and  hasten  to  the  subject-mat- 
ter of  this  book.  Shortly  after  my  return  to  San 
Francisco,  to  make  room  for  the  large  additions  to 
our  stock,  we  rented  two  rooms  fronting  on  Merchant 
street,  in  the  rear  of  our  store,  cutting  through  the 
partition  wall  to  give  us  access  from  the  ^lontgomerv- 
strect  store.  Subsequently  we  occupied  the  whole 
building  on  Merchant  street,  forty  by  sixty  feet,  three 
stories.  During  the  next  year  Mr  Hunt  withdrew 
from  the  partnership.  Meanwhile,  though  little  more 
tliau  a  boy  mysolf,  I  gave  special  attention  to  my 
boys.  I  was  determined  that  my  establishment 
should  be  a  model  of  order,  morality,  and  disci- 
pline. At  once  studying  tlu>m  and  teaching  them, 
of  some  1  made  salesmen,  of  others  book-keepers, 
I^ivingto  the  brightest  and  most  devoted  leaderships. 

In  the  spring  of  1850  I  again  visited  the  east,  and 
in  the  autunm  of  that  year  my  mariiagc  took  place, 
which  was  in  this  wise:  The  sacred  correspondence 
had  long  since  been  cut  off.  To  the  parents  the  device 
^vas  altogether  too  transparent.  On  reaching  Buffalo 
I  innnediately  presented  myself,  and  found  the  lady 
unliable  and  tractable.  I  told  hdr  I  had  come  to 
marry  her;  in  reply  she  declared  herself  willing,  but 
lea  red  her  parents  would  object  to  her  going  so  far 
from  them.    That  night  I  left  for  Ohio,  to  give  time 


IM 


THE  HOUSE  OF  H.  H.  BANCROFT  AND  COMPANY. 


for  consideration.  In  three  weeks  I  returned  and  asked 
her  if  she  was  ready.  For  lierself,  yes,  but  she  woukl 
not  leave  her  father  and  mother  without  their  full 
and  free  assent ;  so  to  the  father  and  mother  I  went. 
They  sighed  and  hesitated;  I  desired  a  'yes'  or  'no,' 
and  receiving  neither  that  night  I  left  for  New  York. 
This  time  I  remained  away  six  weeks,  and  on  return- 
ing all  was  happiness.  In  due  time  the  ceremony  was 
performed  and  we  sailed  for  California.  The  first  t\V(  i 
years  we  lived  on  Harrison  street,  between  First  and 
Second  streets,  and  there  my  daughter  Kate  was  born. 
Afterward  we  passed  certain  seasons  at  Oakland  and 
Alameda. 

In  18G0  my  father  was  appointed  by  President 
Lincoln  Indian  agent  in  Washington  territory,  and 
took  up  his  residence  at  Fort  Simcoe.  My  mother 
soon  joined  him,  and  also  my  youngest  sister,  Mary, 
who  afterward  married  Mr  T.  13.  Trevett.  After  the 
expiration  of  the  term,  four  years,  my  parents  settled 
in  San  Francisco,  and  Mrs  Trevett  in  Portland, 
Oregon. 

Having  now  an  abundance  of  means  at  my  com- 
mand, I  determined  to  establish  a  branch  in  tiio 
stationery  business  among  the  wholesale  houses,  as  we 
had  little  of  that  trade.  To  this  Mr  Kenny  took  ex- 
ceptions. I  persisting,  he  withdrew;  the  stock  was 
divided,  and  he  joining  his  brother-in-law,  Mr  Alex- 
ander, they  opened  a  shop  opposite  to  me.  Naturally 
enough  we  quarrelled;  he  brought  suit  against  mo, 
but,  remembering  our  long  friendship,  before  the  case 
came  up  for  trial  I  went  to  him  and  told  him  he  should 
have  all  he  demanded.  Immediately  we  became  friends 
again ;  and  this  was  our  first  and  last  unpleasantness. 

As  I  was  now  alone,  I  closed  the  stationery  branch, 
and  moved  the  stock  to  the  Montgomery  street  store, 
where  I  could  better  control  matters.  Scarcely  was 
this  done  when  the  political  sky  darkened ;  then  roared 
rebellion ;  and  for  the  next  hve  years  fortunes  were 
thrust  on  Californian  merchants  from  the  rise  in  gold, 


;^;,. 


BUILDING  AND  BUSINESS. 


155 


or  rather  from  the  depreciation  of  the  currency  in 
which  they  paid  their  debts — fortunes  which  otherwise 
could  never  have  been  accumulated  but  by  genera- 
tions of  successful  trade. 

In  January,  1 8G2,  my  wife  made  a  visit  to  her  friends 
at  home,  and  the  following  sumuicr  I  took  a  hurried 
trip  to  London,  Paris,  Xuw  York,  and  Buifalo,  bring- 
iiii^  her  back  with  me.  This  knocking  about  the 
world,  with  the  time  which  it  forced  from  business 
devoted  to  observation  and  thought  under  new  con- 
ditions, was  a  great  educator.  It  was  then  that  am- 
l)itit)n  became  fired,  and  ideas  came  rushing  in  on  me 
faster  than  I  could  handle  tlu'm.  Notwithstanding  I 
had  read  and  studied  somewhat,  vet  the  old  world, 
witli  its  antique  works  and  ways,  seen  by  the  eye  of 
inexperience,  was  at  once  a  romance  and  a  revelation. 
Ill  l8(U'-7  I  spent  a  year  in  Europe  with  my  wife, 
made  the  tour  of  Great  Britain  and  the  continent, 
came  back  to  Buft'alo,  and  there  remainetl  the  following 
winter,  visited  Washington  in  the  spring,  and  returned 
to  San  Francisco  in  the  autumn  of  18G8. 


Meanwhile  the  business  had  assumed  such  pro- 
p()rti(ms  that  more  room  was  absolutely  necessary. 
Although  it  had  two  store-rooms  on  Commercial 
street,  and  suftered  the  inconvenience  of  having  the 
stock  divided;  and  although  we  had  goods  stored  in 
warehouses,  we  were  still  very  crowded.  My  friends 
had  long  desired  that  I  should  build,  and  had  been 
looking  for  a  suitable  place  for  years  without  finding 
one.  In  the  selection  of  a  site  two  points  were  to  be 
regarded,  locality  and  depth  of  lot.  Without  the  one 
our  trade  would  suffer,  and  without  the  other,  in  order 
to  obtain  the  amount  of  room  necessarv,  so  much 
frontage  on  the  street  w^ould  be  taken  up  as  to  make 
the  property  too  costly  for  the  business  to  carry.  In 
regard  to  the  site,  if  we  could  not  obtain  exactly  what 
we  would  like  we  must  take  what  we  could  get. 

Following  Montgomery  and  Kearny  streets  out  to 


156 


THE  HOUSE  OF  H.  H.  BANCROFT  AND  COMPANY. 


1:|; 


§ 


f3' 


!'i 


■<n 


Jj- 


\  H^' 


Market,  we  examined  every  piece  of  property  and 
found  nothing;  then  out  Market  to  Third  street,  and 
beyond,  where  after  some  difficulty,  and  by  paying  a 
large  [)ricc  to  five  different  owners,  I  succeeded  in 
obtaining  seven  lots  together,  three  on  Market  street 
and  four  on  Stevenson  street,  making  in  all  a  little 
nkore  than  seventy-five  by  one  hundred  and  seventy 
feet.  This  was  regarded  as  far  beyond  business  limits 
at  the  time,  but  it  was  the  best  I  could  do,  and  in 
six.  or  seven  years  a  more  desirable  location  could  not 
be  found  in  the  city. 

It  was  one  of  the  turning-i)oints  of  my  life,  this 
move  to  Market  street.  Had  I  been  of  a  tempera- 
ment to  hasten  less  rapidly ;  had  I  remained  content 
to  plod  along  after  the  old  method,  out  of  debt  and 
danger,  with  no  thought  of  anything  further  than 
aocunmlation  and  investment,  for  self  and  family,  for 
this  world  and  the  next  world,  a  comfortable  ])lnoe  in 
both  being  the  whole  of  it — the  map  of  my  destiny, 
as  well  as  that  of  many  others,  would  present  quite  ,x 
differeiit  appearance.  But  like  all  else  that  God  or- 
dains, it  is  better  as  it  is.  The  truth  is,  my  frequent 
absence  from  business  had  weaned  me  from  it — this, 
and  the  constantly  recurring  question  whicli  kept  forc- 
ing itself  on  my  mind,  "Is  he  not  worse  tlian  a  fool 
who  labors  for  more  when  he  has  enough;  worse  than 
a  swine  who  stuffs  himself  when  he  is  already  fuUf" 
If  1  could  turn  my  back  upon  it  all,  it  would  add  to 
my  days,  if  that  were  any  benefit.  Had  I  known 
what  was  before  me  I  would  probably  have  retired 
from  business  at  the  time,  but  in  my  employ  were  as 
fine  a  company  of  young  men,  grown  up  under  my 
own  eye  and  teachings,  as  ever  I  saw  in  any  mercan- 
tile establishment,  and  I  had  not  the  heart  to  break 
in  pieces  the  commercial  structure  which  with  their 
assistance  I  had  reared,  and  turn  them  adrift  upon 
the  world. 

In  Europe,  for  the  first  time  in  my  life,  I  bad 


DEEP  WATERS. 


157 


encountered  a  class  of  people  who  deemed  it  a  dis- 
grace to  engage  in  trade.  Many  I  had  seen  who 
were  too  proud  or  too  lazy  to  work,  but  never  be- 
fore had  come  to  my  notice  those  who  woukl  not  if 
th<'V  could  make  money,  tliou<di  it  involved  no  manual 
lahor.  Here  the  idea  seemed  first  to  strike  mo,  and  I 
asked  myself,  Is  there  then  in  this  world  somethiiii^ 
better  than  money  that  these  men  should  scorn  to  soil 
their  fingers  with  it?  Now  I  never  yet  was  ashamed 
of  my  occupation,  and  I  hope  never  to  be;  otherwise 
I  should  endeavor  speedily  to  lay  it  aside,  Xor  do  I 
conceive  any  more  disgrace  attached  to  laboring  with 
tlic  hands  than  with  the  head.  I  feel  no  more  sense  of 
slianie  when  carrying  a  bundle  or  nailing  up  a  box  of 
goods  than  when  signing  a  check,  or  writing  history, 
or  riding  in  the  park.  A  banker  is  necessarily  neither 
better  nor  worse  j)fr  se  than  a  boot-black,  though, 
if  obliged  to  chose,  I  would  adopt  the  former  calling, 
because  it  is  more  important,  and  productive  of  greater 
results.  The  consuming  of  my  soul  on  the  altar  of 
avarice  I  objected  to,  not  work.  I  have  worked  twice, 
tell  times,  as  hard  writing  books  as  ever  I  did  selling 
books.  But  for  the  occasional  breaking  away  from 
business,  long  enough  for  my  thoughts  to  form  for 
themselves  new  channels,  I  should  have  been  a  slave 
to  it  till  this  day,  for  no  one  was  more  interested  and 
absorbed  in  money-making  while  engaged  in  it  than  I. 
In  accordance  with  my  purposes,  tiien,  historical 
and  professional,  in  18G!)  I  began  building.  Already 
I  had  in  contemplation  a  costly  dwelling,  parts  of 
which  had  been  constructed  in  England  and  at  the 
east,  and  shipped  hither  from  time  to  time,  till  a  great 
mass  of  material  had  accumulated  which  must  be  put 
together.  I  resolved,  somewhat  recklessly,  to  make 
one  affair  of  it  all,  and  build  a  store  and  dwelling-house 
at  the  same  time,  and  have  done  with  it.  Times  were 
then  good,  business  was  steady,  and  with  the  ex- 
perience of  thirteen  years  behind  me  I  thought  I 
could  calculate  closely  enough  in  money  matters  not 


158 


THE  HOUSE  OF  H.  H.  BANCROFT  AND  COMPANY. 


!l 


to  be  troubled.  Consequently  my  plans  were  drawn, 
I  ordered  my  material,  <j;ii\o  out  contracts  for  the  sev- 
eral ])arts,  and  soon  a  hundred  men  or  more  were  at 
work. 

And  now  bcfjan  a  series  of  the  severest  trials  of 
my  life,  ti'ials  which  I  .i,dadly  would  have  escaped  in 
death,  thanking  the  merciless  monster  had  he  finished 
the  work  which  was  half  done.  In  December,  18G9, 
my  wife  died.  Other  men's  wives  had  died  before,  and 
left  them,  1  suppose,  as  crushed  as  I  was;  but  mine 
had  never  died,  and  I  knew  not  what  it  was  to  disjoin 
and  l)ury  tliat  part  of  myself.  That  which  comes  to 
every  one,  in  coming  to  me  for  the  first  time  brought 
sur})iise.  If  my  sorrow  had  been  tlie  only  sorrow  of 
the  kind  inflicted  on  the  race  I  might  publish  it  with 
loud  lamentations  for  the  entertainment  of  mankind; 
but  all  know  of  death,  and  it  eil'ects,  though  none 
know  what  it  is.  It  is  not  a  very  pleasant  sensation, 
that  of  being  entirely  alone  in  the  universe,  that  of 
being  on  not  very  good  terms  with  the  invisible,  and 
caring  little  or  nothing  for  the  visible.  Oh  the  weari- 
some sun!  I  cried,  will  it  never  cease  shining?  Will 
the  evening  never  cease  its  visitation,  or  the  river  its 
flow?  INFust  the  green  grass  always  grow,  and  must 
birds  always  sing?  True,  I  had  my  little  daughter; 
God  bless  her  I  but  when  night  after  night  she  sobbed 
herself  to  sleep  upon  my  breast,  it  only  made  mo 
angry  that  I  could  not  help  her.  Behold  the  quin- 
tessence of  folly  I  to  mourn  for  that  which  is  inevitable 
to  all,  to  be  incensed  at  inexorable  fate,  to  remain  for 
years  sullen  over  the  mysterious  ways  of  the  un- 
knowabl(\  I  tried  prayer  for  relief  both  before  and 
after  her  death;  if  ever  one  of  God's  creatures  prayed 
eai-nestly  and  honestly,  with  clean  uplifted  hands,  in 
faitJi  nothing  doubting,  that  one  was  myself  But  all 
was  of  no  avail.  Then  I  began  to  think,  and  to  ask 
myself  if  ever  a  prayer  of  mine  had  been  answered; 
or  if  to  any  one  who  ever  lived  was  given,  to  a  cer- 
tainty, not  as  seen  alone  through  the  eyes  of  faith,  the 


;2    ii 


SUMMUM  JUS  S.EPE  SUMMA  INJURIA. 


1.-.9 


thinjj  he  asked  because  he  asked  it.  And  I  com- 
jdaincd;  the  Hght  of  my  soul  put  out — wherefore? 
Xot  in  punishment,  as  some  would  say,  else  God  is 
not  just,  because  many  more  wicked  than  I  are  not  so 
aniietcd.  I  would  not  treat  my  worst  enemy,  lol  alono 
uiy  child,  as  God  deals  with  me,  whom  he  professes 
to  love  more  than  I  love  my  child.  But  the  ways  of 
God  are  past  finding  out,  saith  the  preacher.  Then 
why  preach  to  me  as  though  you  had  ''.and  them  out? 
Sent  hither  without  our  will,  thrust  hence  against  our 
will — be  still,  my  heart,  you  know  not  what  you  say! 
Wait. 

It  is  beautiful,  this  world,  and  life  is  lovely.    Death 
presents  no  pleasing  prospect.    Mortal  or  immortal, 
I  lie  soul  dissolved  or  hied  to  realms  of  bliss;    that 
mighty  miracle,  the  intellect,  which  here  moves  moun- 
tains,laughs  at  the  sea, and  subjects  all  things  earthly — 
this  subtile  intelligence  that  knows  it  is,  evaporated, 
returned  to  gas,  to  cosmic  force,  to  Nirvana,  or  hover- 
ing nuite  and  inane  in  space;  to  close  the  eyes  to  this 
lair  world,  to  the  bright  sun,  the  gorgeous  landscape, 
and  the  sparkling  waters;  to  close  the  mouth  to  its 
ihuughts  of  life-inspiring  air;  and  the  boxed  body  to 
consign  to  its  slimy  walled  dungeon,  there  to  fatten 
^vornls,  seems  scarcely  a  fitting  end  for  so  much  care, 
so  much  straining  at  higher  planes  of  existence.    Bet- 
ter befitting  death,  judging  from  all  we  can  see  of  it, 
is  a  Dives'  life,  wherein  pleasure  is  the  only  profit, 
lluin  a  threescore  and  ten  years  of  self-denial,  strug- 
gling for  attainments  only  to  be  dissipated  in  the  end. 
0  lifirrible  nightmare  of  a  possible  future  non-exist- 
ence !    Better  never  to  have  been  than  to  have  been 
and  not  to  be;  else  to  what  purpose  this  life  of  dis- 
jionsations?     Some  say  they  desire  death,  but  few 
such  I  believe.    Death  is  ever  at  the  bidding  of  those 
who  seek   him.     Such  arc   either  half-crazed   with 
morbid  grief,  or  drunk  with  pride  and  egotism,  or 
smitten  with  coward  fear.     No  healthy  mind  is  anx- 
ious to  cast  itself  into   the   boundless,  mysterious, 


KM)       THK   HOUSK  OF  H.  H.  BANCKOPr  AXU  COMI'ANY. 


^ 


I 


ii 


unknown  Ix-ynnd.  FanaticH,  Christians,  Afoliunnnc- 
(lans,  savaiM^t's,  may  dcthront!  Hcnsc,  not  up  and  liui^ 
to  blindness  a  fancied  paradise  or  happy  hunting- 
-ground in  the  boliof  that  to  die  is  to  gam,  yet  none 
are  more  chary  of  risking  their  precious  lives  upon  it 
than  these. 

Life  and  deatli  are  most  stupendous  mysteries,  death 
not  more  tlian  life,  being  simply  not  being.  One  thing 
alone  might  ever  make  me  covet  death,  and  that  would 
be  an  eager  anxiety  to  know  what  it  is,  and  what  is 
beyond  it.  But  millions  know  this,  or  are  beyond  the 
knowing  of  it;  and  when  in  an  aveiage  good  humor, 
though  I  be  as  thirsty  for  truth  as  Odin,  who  gave 
one  eye  to  drink  of  the  waters  of  Mimir's  well  where- 
in all  knowledge  lay  concealed,  I  am  willing  to  wait 
the  few  short  swiftly  whiiling  yenrs  left  to  me. 

It  is  a  fearful  thing  thus  to  g<>  forth  into  the  black- 
ness, l)ut  still  hard(M-  t<>  en<lure  to  let  wife  or  little 
one  groi)e  thither'  alone,  (ilve  \nv,  ()  God,  no  food 
for  mv  hungry  love,  else  snatch  it  not  from  me  ere  I 
have  scarcely  tasted  itl  For  her  who  so  lately  clung 
to  mc  as  to  an  anchor  of  safety,  who  so  often  opened 
upon  me  the  eyes  of  her  inward  nuite  pi'ide  and  conso- 
lation, to  be  as  by  rude  hands  hurried  hence  seemed 
not  heavenly  to  me.  Not  until  the  fire  lighted  by 
disease  had  spent  itself,  not  until  the  hectic  flush  had 
faded,  and  the  fever  heat  had  fled,  leaving  the  heart  still 
and  the  limbs  cold,  did  love  forsake  the  glazing  eye,  or 
those  fleshless  fingers  cease  to  press  the  clasped  hand. 

She  is  gone,  and  who  cares?  Neither  deities  nor 
men.  The  world  laughs,  and  swears,  and  cheats  as 
hitherto.  The  undertaker's  long  face  of  mercenary 
solemnity  haunts  you;  the  hustling  crowd,  careless  <»t' 
your  cankering  grief,  madden  you.  There  go  the 
word-wise  M'hippers-in  of  Charon,  the  doctors,  witli 
their  luxurious  equipages  drawn  by  sleek  horses,  the 
gift  of  hell-feeding  Hermes ;  scarce  enough  they  make 
themselves  their  work  being  done — so  ran  my  bitter 
thoughts. 


OMNIA  AD  DEI  CLORIAM. 


101 


IIMIU- 

ntinjjj- 
:  none 
ipon  it 

,  death 
3  tiling' 
,  woul«l 
vliat  is 
)nd  the 
humor, 
lo  t^avo 
where- 
to wait 


It  is  <hfru'uh  evtii  lor  a  })hil<)st)[)her  to  .separate 
sorrow  ami  <i,l<»oin  I'roiii  death.  When  at  the  demise 
dl'  Soenites,  Plato  wished  to  elieer  and  eond'ort  Apol- 
lodonis,  the  disciplf  ot"  the  threat  ileecasefl,  so  nn-at 
iiulei'd  that  iieitlicr  drath  nor  time  could  rob  him  of 
his  irrcatiu>ss,  he  oflVred  him  a  eiip  of  wine:  where- 
iipoii  A|)ollodonis  I'oplicd  indii^nantly, ''  \  would  rather 
liave  pledged  Soerates  iu  his  luMuloek  than  you  in  this 
\\iiH>."  "Aniums  aMpms  optimum  est  anumna'  condi- 
iiK  iitum,"'  says  IMautus,  whieh  is  all  Aeiy  wrll  as  a 
iiiaxiui.  There  is  uo  <loubt  that  a  well  halaneed  mind 
is  the  host  remedy  asjainst  atllietions,  but  oroat  <n'iet' 
nftcii  throws  mind  out  of  balance,  so  that,  the  remedy 
!)( inn-  ;d)sent,  tlu>  a])plieation  fails. 

It  often  strikes  me  s^trauinfclv  to  licar  dead  men's  dis- 
courses  on  death,  to  read  what  matchless  Shakespeare 
>a\s  of  it,  and  i)rond,  imperious  Byron,  and  suhtile- 
sciised  Shelley,  and  Aristotle,  Plato,  and  the  rest.  Pity 
"tis  wc"  cannot  n<»w  speak  the  word  that  tells  us  what 
(lc;ith  is,  we  who  have  yet  to  die. 

The  burden  of  my  loss  was  laid  n]>on  me  gradually; 

it  \v;is  not  felt  in  its  fullest  force  at  first;  it  was  only 

as  the  years  passed  bv  that  I  could  fuUv  realize  it. 

Ofcupation  is  the  antidote  to  grief;  give  me  work  or 

I  die;  work  which  shall  be  to  me  a  nepenthe  to  oblit- 

ciate  all  sorrows.     And  work  enough  I  had,  but  it 

was  of  the  exasperating  and  not  of  the  soothing  kind. 

\\'  I  could  have  shut  my.self  up,  away  from  the  world, 

and  absorbed    my  mind  in  pursuit  of  whatever  was 

iiiest  congenial  to  it,  that  would  have  been  medicine 

indeed.     Cicero   found   far   more   consolation  in  the 

divei'siuii  of  thought  incident  to  the  writing  of  his 

lihilnsophical  treatises,  tlian   in  the  philosophy  they 

•  entained.     But  this  was  denied  me.     It  was  building 

and  business,  grown  doubly  hateful  now  that  she  for 

"wlium  I  chieliy  labored  luul  gone.    I  stayed  the  work- 

lui  u  en  the  house,  and  let  it  stand,  a  ghastly  .spectacle 

to  tlio  neighborhood  for  over  a  year;  then  I  finished 

it,  thinking  it  well  enough  to  save  the  material.     The 

Lit.  Ind.    U 


162 


TIIK  IIOUSK  OF  H.  II.  BANCROFT  AND  COMPANY. 


to' 


Ciirpcaiiois  still  liaiuiiioivd  away  on  tlio  store  buildin 
and  coiii[)loiod  it  in  April,  1870. 

The  business  was  nctw  one  oi'  the  most  extensive 
of  the  kind  in  the  woild.  It  was  divided  into  nine 
dejiaitnunts,  lach  in  ehar-ge  oi'  an  e\[n'rienced  and 
rcispoiisible  head,  with  tlie  icquisite  nunilter  of  assist- 
ants, and  eaeli  in  itself  as  lar^e  as  an  ordinary  business 
in  our  line  of  trade.  Ihii  this  was  not  enough.  Thus 
tar  it  was  [)urely  a  mercantile  and  puMisliing  house. 
To  make  it  })eri'eet,  ('om])lete,  an«l  syiiiiiietiical,  mami- 
factuiing  must  hv  added.  This  I  had  long  been  am- 
bitious of  doing,  but  was  prevented  by  lack  of  room. 
Now  this  ohstaele  was  remo\ed,  and  1  determined  In 
i  ly  the  ex[H;riment.  The  mercantile  stock  was  brought 
up  and  pro})erly  arranged  in  the  dill'erent  departments 
on   tin;   first  and  second  ilooi's  and  basemeid,  on  one 


il(I(!    o 


f  tl 


le  new  huihlmij 


Tl 


ie.se  rooms   \\v\v  each 


thirty-live  by  one  hundreil  and  seventy  feet.  On  the 
(hiid  and  Iburth  iloors  ii'sjtectively  were  jdaced  a 
piiiiting-oOice    and   bot)kbindeiy,   each   covering   tlie 


iiitiix!    u'l'ound   of   the   buildin 


r>' 


'Mnt\-iive  by  oi 


hundred  and  seventy  feet.  To  accom[tlisli  this  moiv 
easily  and  economically  sc!\eral  small  establishments 
Nvere  purehase<l  and  moved  \\ith  their  business  into 
tJie  new  ])remises,  such  as  a  ])rinting,  an  engraving, 
a.  lithographing,  and  a  stationery  establishment.  \ 
steam-(,iigiiie  was  phuicd  in  the,  basement  to  dii\(' 
the  machiiieiy  above,  anil  an  artesian  well  was  diii;' 
to  supply  the  premises  with   water.      A.  di'partnu  nt 

Ided.       M\  libi'arv  <<( 


ol    UjUsie  ii. 


I'lJiiios  was  also  ai 


T 

fifth  11 


icifie  c-o;ist  books  was  al[)habetically  arfaiiged  on  tl 


oor,  wliicn  was  o 


rooms     helow, 


T 


WW 


i'  tl 

1    el 


le  same  (liiiieiisions  as 


ia.ii'>e<l     the    name    o 


t    t 


i)Usit\t!ss,    the    initial   letters   only,    my    I'esponsibilil 


lowever,  remanun''" 


tl, 


e  san>e 


T 


le  Idea  w  as 


not 


ii\ 


emi- 


nently praetieablt>,  i  will  admit,  that  1  should  exped, 
to  remain  at  the  head  of  a  lai'ge  and  intricati>  busiiu -s, 
involving  many  interests  and  accompanied  by  endless 
detail,  and  see  it  coni'ime  its  successful  course,  and  ;it 


TIIK    I'AST   .\\l>   THK   TO('(>MK. 


l(i:t 


the  saiiu>  time  withdraw  mv  tliouulits  and  atti^ntinu 
iKnii  it  SO  as  to  do  justice  to  any  litrrary  or  liistoncal 
iiiidi'rtakiiiL;;.  "Ifow  dart  d  yoii  uiiilcrtakc  ci'ossiniLif 
tlic  Si(M'ra!"'  till!  pioneer  railn»ad  nit  ii  wore  asl<('d. 

"'  Because    we    were    not   I'ailroad    men.'    was    tlio 
rrpiy. 


\\n> 


I  felt. 


was  en( 


le<l  tl 


le  iirst  e|)iS( 


de  ..f 


niv  llle 


I    had    l»e<'un   witli    uotliinu'    Ituddin''-  up  l>v  nu  own 


IIM 


li\idu.al  etlorts.  in  sixtei'ii  v 


oar; 


a  niannnorii 


th 


msi- 


iii'ss  of  wliieli  I  nii^'lit  Justly  feel  proud,  I  liad 
scli'tnled  I'lDni  the  rudiments,  and  carried  them 
ihiouuli  all  tlit^  rainitieatitins  and  e(»iii|>!ie;itii>ns  of 
t!i;it  husine.ss,  a  score  and  moi'(>  of  acti\e  ;ind  inlelli- 
L^i  lit  younn'  men,  each  competent  to  take  ihi*  li.id  in 
Ills  department,  and  of  tlieni  I  \va-<  jiroud.  Arrived 
at  tli;it  estnte  wlu're  moiu'y-makin'^  li;id  ceased  to  Ite 
till'  cliief  pleasure,  1  mij^lit  nowi'i-tire  int(»  idleness,  or 
I't  Liin  life  anew.  'I'lie  short  spui't  <»t"  self-consciousness 
viinclisafe(l  our  \itality  ouLifht  not  all  to  l>e  spent  in 
uvttiii'4'  ready  to  live. 

liut  this  was  not  yet  to  1)0.  I  nni.st  first  pay  the 
|H]i;il(y  of  oNcrdoinn;',  a  )ienal(y  which  in  my  busincvsH 
'•.liver  J  hav(>  oflenor  paid  than  the  penalty  ai'isint;" 
iVniii  lack  of  onorny.  11iat  1  had  huilt  simultMn(M)usly 
a  line  stoi'(^  aixl  an  expensive  ( 


dwell 


ini;'  was  no  n>:i,rk 
'f  l''11\',  for  my  tinancos  were  such  that  I  couM  aiVo^d 
it.  That  I  hatl  reorn'anizod  the  l)usint>ss,  spread  i(  out 
n]n'ii  a  new  basis,  douhlod  its  capacity,  ai..!  doubled 
!'~  cNpcnsos,  was  no  mark  <tf  folly,  for  rvcvy  dejtai't- 
im  ;it.  both  of  the  inercantih^  and  miuiufactuiin^'  paits, 
had  i^rown  into  o.\istonc(\  Thoro  was  nothinn'  about 
file  establishment  theoretical,  lani'iful,  oi'  speculative 
ill  '  liai'ucter.  All  was  i'lnineiilly  practical,  the  n^- 
>nli  o|'  natin-al  ^'I'owth.  The  business  extended  from 
l>i'itidi  ( 'oh.unbia  to  jVFt^xico.and  over  to  the  I  lawaiian 


ami 


.1, 


ipan.  and  China,  and  was  in  a  ilouiishiuL!^ 
•'""iilition;  and  reports  from  the  heads  of  the  several 
il'piifiinents  showed  its  status  every  month.     That  it 


104 


THE  HOUSE  OF  H.  11.  BANCROFT  AND  COMPANY. 


II 


should  .sucoos.sfully  carry  us  through  the  most  tryinj^ 
time  which  was  to  follow,  am[tly  proves  that  its  con- 
dition was  not  unsound,  nor  its  establishment  on  such 
a  basis  impracticable. 

AVocs,  iKJWever,  were  at  hand.  First  appeared  one 
folic )winL,^  the  opening  of  tlie  Pacilic  railway.  This 
grand  event,  so  ardently  desired,  and  so  earnestly 
advocated  on  both  sides  of  the  continent  since  the 
occupation  of  tlie  country  by  Anglo-Americans,  was 
celebrated  witli  guns,  and  banners,  and  music,  as  if  tht; 
millennium  liad  comr;  and  cNery  oik;  thouixht  it  had. 
There  Mei'e  many  al'tcrward  who  said  thev  knew  ami 
affirmed  it  at  the  time  that  this  road  at  iirst  would 
brinsj  nothini>:  but  financial  disaster  and  ruin  to  Cali- 
fornia,  but  before  such  disaster  and  ruin  came  I 
for  one  heard  nothing  of  its  a})proacli.  On  the  con- 
trary, tliough  j»iices  of  I'cal  estate  weiv  already  in- 
flated, and  the'  city  had  been  laid  out  in  homestead 
lots  for  a  distance  of  ten  miles  round,  and  sold  at  rates 
in  ket'j»ing  witli  a  po])ulation  of  tliree  millions,  the 
universal  imi)ression  was  tliat  prii'es  would  go  liighcr 
and  that  eveiy  one  on  completion  of  the  railway  would 
be  rich.  J  Jut  e\eiy  one  did  not  become  rich.  EviT)' 
one  wanted  to  st>ll,  and  could  not,  and  there  was  a  gen- 
eral collapse.  For  live  years  the  best  and  most  centr.il 
property'  j-emained  stationary,  with  scarcely  a  movi - 
ment  i/i  all  that  time,  wliile  outsi<K'  projterty  fell  in 
some  .'ases  to  one  tenth  its  foi-mer  estimated  value. 

liusitiess  was  likewise  revolutioni/A>(l.  1  nunediatcly 
the  raihN'ay  was  in  lunning  order  the  attention  "t" 
buyers  throughout  the  coimtry,  large  and  small,  \\;is 
turned  towaid  the  east.  "A\'e  can  now  ])urcliase  in 
New  York  as  well  as  in  San  Francisct),"  they  sniil, 
"and  save  one  profit."  Consecpieiitly  prices  in  San 
Francisco  fell  far  below"  remunerative  rates,  and  tlio 
question  with  our  jobbers  was,  not  whether  theycoiiM 
make  as  much  nH>ne\-  as  formei'ly,  but  whether  thi'V 
coidd  do  l»usiness  at  all.  Some  classes  of  busiiK'SS 
were  obliged  to  succumb,  and  many  merchants  failed. 


A  CENERAL  COLLAPSE. 


165 


r.aige  stocks,  ac(3umulatccl  at  low  rates  during  the 
war  \\  lieu  currency  was  at  a  discount  of  from  twenty- 
five  to  fifty  per  cent,  were  tliroMii  u]ion  tiie  market, 
;ui(l  ])rices  of  many  articles  ruled  far  below  the  cost  of 
icjyroduction.  Thus,  with  heavy  ex])enses  and  no 
|iri'Hts,  affairs  began  to  look  ominous.  At  such  times 
,1  large,  broadly  extended  busintjss  is  mucli  more 
unwieldy  than  a  small  one.  Certain  cxjienscs  are 
iiicessary;  it  is  impossible  to  retluce  them  in  jiro- 
jiortion  to  the  shrinkage  of  prices  and  the  stagnation 
ul'  trade. 

More  was  yd  to  come.  As  all  Californians  well 
know,  the  prosperity  of  a  season  depends  on  tlie  rain- 
J'iill.  Sometimes  the  eftects  of  one  dry  winter  may  be 
I'lidged  over  by  a  j)rosperous  year  before  and  after. 
I  lut  wlien  two  or  three  thy  seasons  come  together  the 
ivsult  is  most  disastrous,  and  a  year  or  two  of  favor- 
;ililt!  rains  are  usually  reciiiii vd  before  the  state  entirely 
rt'cupcrates.  As  if  to  t  \  ('le  endurance  of  our  mer- 
'liants  to  the  utmost,  three  dry  winters  and  five 
I'M  in'  years  of  hard  times  followed  the  opening  of  the 
lailway.  That  so  many  lived  through  them  is  the 
wiMulcr.  That  my  business  i'sjtccially  did  not  fail, 
with  sui-li  an  accunnilation  ot"  imtoward  cii-cumstancts, 
|iiMV('(l  conclusivt'ly  that  it  was  sound  and  wrll  i.ian- 
;il;i(1.  Ihiilding  has  ruined  many  a  man;  I  had 
hiiilt.  Jiranching  out  has  ruinfd  many  a  man;  1 
li;i(l  l>raiu'hc(l.  The  tall  in  real  I'statr,  the  I't'Vohition 
ill  |ii'<itits  incident  to  tin-  ojirning  of  thf  lailway,  and 
til''  (liy  seasons,  each  of  these  h.-is  ,>e\er;i]ly  ruined 
many  men.  All  these  eanie  u[Kin  nie  at  due  time, 
aii'l  y<i   the  IhUlse  h\-e(l  through  it. 

It  may  easily  be  seen  that  to  draw  one's  mind  from 
l'ii>iuess  at  such  a  time  and  fix  it  on  literary  pursuits 
^'.;ls  no  easy  matter.  ('ar(>s,  like  ilies,  buzz  jierpetu- 
itlly  in  one's  ears;  lock  the  door,  and  they  creej)  in 
tliiMUgh  invisible  apertujcs.  Yet  I  attemjited  it, 
tli<'ii._h  at  fu-st  with  indiifen'ut  success.  The  work 
"11  the  lil'th   lloor,  hereinafter  to  be  described,  was 


lltii 


'I'lIK    lUlLSK   OK    11.   II.   l'>.\Nt  i;ulT   ANK    ^(»MI'A^^'. 


not  .'(Ks'.'tvs  rcucardi'd  witli  fav<ir  liv  those  kI'lIk;  <»tli 


fl 


OOI'S. 


\t 


<  ]• 


(hew    iiioiiL'V    tVom    tho    buHiue.^ 


^\ 


hich 


reniainiii!4'  might  ho  th(!  means  of  savinu-  it  from 
clcstruction.  It  alhirocl  the;  attoiitioii  of  one  wliose 
prosoneo  miu^ht  be  the  salvation  of  tlie  estabh.shnient. 
After  all  it  was  but  a  hobby,  and  would  result  in 
neither  prolit  nor  honor.  Of  course  I  ((juld  do  as  J 
liked  with  my  own,  but  was  it  not  folly  to  j(>o|»ardize 
the  life  of  the  business  to  gain  a,  few  years  of  lime  foi 
profitless  work'  Would  it  not  bo  better  to  wait  lill 
times  were  better,  till  money  could  \h)  spared,  and 
dang 


(fQV  was  passtM 


Althouoh  the  years  of  financial  uncertaintv  thai 


ft.ll 


owet 


I   th 


10   coni]»ietion    o1     the   railwav   weit 


th 


withering  to  my  work,  gloomy  and  de))ressing,  yet 
1  jx'i'sisted.  Day  after  day,  and  year  after  year,  J 
lavislied  time  and  monty  in  the  vain  attempt  to  ae- 
comj>]ish  1  knew  not  what.  It  was  sonu'tliiiig  ! 
desired  to  do,  and  J.  was  determined  to  jind  out  w!i:M 
it  was,  and  then  to  do  it  if  1  couliL  Although  ni\ 
mind  was  in  anything  but  a  condition  suitable 
the  task,  [  felt  in  no  mood  to  wait.      I'lvery  dav 


to)' 


I  ll 


month,  or  year  (Ujlayed  was  so  much  taken  from  ni\ 
life,     j\ly  ago — thi!'ty-se\  en  or  thereabout — was  some 
what  advanced  I'or  undertakini"'  a  liteiarv  work  of  an\ 
magnitude,  and  no  time  imist  be  lost.      Sucli  was  m\ 
infatuation  that  J  would  not  h.n«'  hesitated,  any  nie 
nieiit  these  do/.en  yeai's,  had  the  (piestion  arisen  to 
abandon  the  business  or  my  plan.     L  did  not  considei- 
it  right  to  bring  disasti-r  on  others,  l)ut  I  never  believed 
that  such  a  result  would  follow  my  cours(\      '.fine,  it 
is  one  thing  to  oiiginate  a  business  and  (piite  anothei 
to  maintain   it;   yet   1    f(  It  that  the  heads  of  di^paif 
nicnts  were  competent  to  mana-je  atfairs,  lepoitinL!'  te 
me  every  month.      The  busines.s  was  itayin^'  well,  anu 
I  would  I'estrict  my  expenditures  in  cmtv  other  wa\ 
except  to  fore<>"o  or  dejav  a  Mork  which   iiad   becoui' 
dearer  to  me  than  life.      So  1   toile(i  on  with  greati  r 
or  less  success,  oftentimes  with  a  heavy  heart  ami  a 


SUCCESS  THROUGH  TRIBULATIOX. 


167 


lieated  brain,  t'wod  out,  disooura'^cd.  mA,  kn()\vin<r 
it'  (jver  I  should  be  ponnittcd  to  cuiiiplcto  auytliiuj^ 
I  l>ad  imdcrtakeii,  in  wliieli  event  all  would  ho  lost.  I 
tniled  a-*  it' divinely  c^inniissioned,  lli;-,n<rh  dealin-j;'  Il^sk 
and  loss  in  divinity.  1  was  eonsti'aiiKYl  to  the  etl'ort, 
if  any  one  can  toll  what  that  is. 

It  was  hetweon  tho  hours  of  work  tliat  I  i^\- 
])orionced  the  greatest  de}»ression;  once  at  niy  tahhi 
:ui(l  ('airly  launcliecl  ujion  my  writinl,^  J  was  ahsoihod 
liy  it,  and  forgot  for  the  tinio'  the  ri,>ks  I  was  taiiing. 

This  season  of  trial  was  not  without  its  luMielHs. 
Jt  foreed  upon  inr  ;i  species  of  sell'-ahuegation  whieh 
I  might  ne\'er  otherwise  h:i\e  attained.  Had  pleasni'o 
heen  pleasurahitt  to  nie;  hail  I  h<>en  al)l<'  toeiiiov  hiuli 
ri\int''  and  eKtravaiiant  exnenditiii'es  with  niv  aifairs 
ill  so  \UK\>rtain  a  state,  or  had  my  linaiiees  h(>en  such 
a>  t(»  enahle  me  without  stint  to  enjoy  gentlenmiily 
K  KUiv,  or  litei'iiry  or  other  idling,  it  is  douhtful 
whether  I  could  ha\e  inustei-ed  <  outage  and  persist- 
ence to  carrv  forwai'd  mv  undi'riakinu^,  or  rather  t.o 
uiidei'take  it.  (hie  kn<»ws  not  what  c;in  he  done  nr 
suir''red  until  necessity  makes  the  demand.  It  \\;rs  a 
trial  ^4'  tenijier  which  wcll-nigh  p''o\-ed  liitah  My  life 
di'.i'iiig  these  years  was  a  series  of  ixci'sses,  tlu3  vcj-y 
w  *y<i  state  into  which  a  man  can  tall — excess  of 
work,  followed  by  its  natntal  reaction,  and  ending  in 
ill  liealthand  despondency.  Work  is  the  amethystine 
antidote  to  e\(>ry  excess,  except  excess  <;f  work. 

Ill  time,  howi'ver,  the  clouds  cleared;  the  wheels 
"['  liu>incss  revolved  with  smoothness  and  )'egularity; 
iiiy  v.ork  assumed  shap(\  ]);irt  of  it  was  tinishe<l  and 
l)]:iis(>d;  letters  of  encouiagement  came  ])om'ing  in 
like  healthful  hn-ezes  to  i\\y'  heated  hrow;  T  a.<'(]uii'ed 
a  nain(>,  and  a!i  n)en  smile<(  upon  me.  'i'hen  1  built 
IJihylonian  towers,  and  clindjing  heavenward  peered 
into  paradise. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

FROM    BIBLIOPOLLST    TO    IJIHLIOl'HILE. 

Still  am  T  bosy  bokos  asscmblyngc; 

For  to  have  plenty,  it  is  a  pleiisauiit  tliyn;,'e. 

liraiult. 


m 


It" 

Jir.: 

'it'' 

hi 

M 

k 


Thus  far,  all  tlirongli  liCo,  liad  div  intellectual  boijio- 
c'l'aved  ever  more  substantial  nutriineut.  While  in 
business  I  was  ^ranunou's  ilevotec;  yet  money  did  not 
satisfy  me.  lleli^ion  tended  ratliei'  To  (>xeit(!  longinj^s 
than  to  allay  them.  K.  lij^ionists  would  say  1  did 
not  have  (Miouuj'h  of  it,  if*  indeed  1  bad  any  at  all — in 
other  words  1  was  not  doetiinally  dead  drunk.  Yet 
J  tasted  and  prayed,  })rayed  as  if  to  enlist  all  the 
f(»i'oes  of  heaven  to  make  a  man  of  me,  and  fancied 
1  had  laith,  fancied  I  saw  miracles  wj-ouiiht  in  my 
behalf  and  n)oimtain^  removed;  though  hiter,  when 
my  (y  .-■  v  ere  «;j#«ned  ami  my  j)rtiudiiMS  melted  by 
till  lio'lit  of  reason,  even  as  the  sun  dis|)els  the  foj^, 
1  saw  the  mountains  standinj;'  just  ^^  h<'re  thoy  were. 
Y(.!t  for  a  time  1  revelled  in  tin' (d  liohts  <if  fanaticism. 
The   feeling"  th.d   in   ( lod's   pieseiiee  and    before  the 


very  eves  ot    mteri' 


>te(l 


onuupoteilr 


J 


was  conscieii 


tiiKisly  accomplishiui;"  my  dutit.>,  this  j^-ave  a  consola- 
tion that  the  (hnilu;('ry  of  Snnday-selux*!  etforts,  or 


th 


hel 


even  tlio  overw  lielnun^"  siiamc  oi    i>r(!aRm_n'  down  iii 


)r 


aycr-inectniij;,  could  no+ 


w 


holl 


v  erac 


licat( 


Aev 


Ttl 


mys.  U  to  be  not  what  1  ]>rot'esscd  to  be,  better  or  di 
i'ei'i'ut  from  other  sinners,  any  \i\i>fr  than  wero  tho> 
\\\u)  sat  in  tlf  ju'ws  around  mt 
in-^'  the  air  and  lon^jm;  tor  a  nioic  realistio  exi.steiic 

1 1'«  I 


ic- 


saintshii»  >at  not  i^raeefully  U[)on  me.      I    knew 


I  stru^oled,  beat- 


A  NKW  LIFE. 


100 


I  could  not  iindoi-staml  it  tlicn,  but  I  soc  it  dearly 
now.  It  was  tlitf  onlari^oment  and  onnoblonient  of 
the  immaterial  Me  that  1  longed  foi-.  My  intelleet 
srciued  oaijfed  in  brass,  and  my  soul  smothere<l  in  the 
clieatiug  nianmaisms  ol'  society.  Often  I  asked  my- 
s(  If,  Is  this  then  all  of  life?  to  heap  up  merehandiso 
I'm)  those  Avho  come  after  nio  to  scatter,  and  to  listen 
nil  Stmdaj's  to  the  stupid  I'eiteratioii  of  tUiul  loi'unilas ! 
Iiis.itiable  grew  my  craving;  and  I  said,  I  will  dit>  now 
ill  .>i(ler  tliat  I  may  live  a  little  before  I  die.  1  will 
ilir  ti)  the  jiast,  to  money  getting,  to  station  rooting; 
I  will  takeasti'aight  look  u|)wai'd  and  beyond,  and  set; 
ir  1  e;in  realize  I'eligion;  I  will  unlock  the  cage  of  my 
tliouulits  and  let  them  roam  whithersoever  thev  will; 
I"  Iter,  I  will  bare  my  soul  to  its  maker,  and  throw 
myself,  as  he  made  me,  lunnltly  and  trustingly  on  him. 
Away  with  the  continual  (juaking  fear  of  (hjd's  wrath, 
like  that  of  the  savage  who  hears  his  demon  howl  in 
tlif  temjiest;  away  with  the  I'ashionable  superstitions 
of  society,  that  saj)  manliness  and  lay  Iturdens  upon 
iH  tlu)t  would  shame  an  African  slave  to  bear!  Span- 
ning the  circle  of  knowledge,  which  swee|)s  round  from 
the  lu'giniiing  of  knowledge  to  tluj  present  time,  hence- 
forth 1  will  eonsidcr  with  Socrates,  "how  I  shall  prc- 
MMit  my  soul  whole  and  undehled  before  the  judge  in 
that  day.  Renoimcing  the  honors  at  which  tlie  world 
jiiiiis,  I  desire  only  to  know  the  truth,  to  live  as  well 
.I--  1  can,  and  when  the  time  c-omes,  to  die." 

Ah  I  this  gradual  unloading  of  hope,  as  slowly  along 
the  )i[)i'r  years  of  our  experience  we  awake  IVom  tlie 
purple  colorings  of  youth  to  a  senst?  of  what  and  where 
wo  ai'c.  Mothers  should  be  carefid  rigarding  the 
stories  tliey  tell  their  children,  lest  theli'  minds  ri'Uiain 
Jilways  infantile.  Ciecro  would  not,  while  he  lived. 
lunc  his  mistaken  belief  in  the  innnortalii\  of  the  sold 
upinottid,  if  it  were  a  mistaken  belief  Hut  Cicero  me 
1H>  ('icvros.  I  Wf)uld  know  the  truth.  'J'hough  death 
IS  a  hideous  thing,  I  would  not  have  mine  sugar-coated 
wit!i  a  lie.     Intellectual  cultivation  inqilies   thiid^mg, 


170 


FROM  niBLIOPOLIST  TO  niBLlOI'ltlLK. 


,  V  j,. 


and  tliinkiiijTf  tends  to  woakeii  faith.  There  is  no  ln-lp 
for  it.  At  the  border  hiiul  of  I'aitli  reason  must  [)ausc. 
To  know,  you  must  ((iiestioii;  once  (juestion  and  y(»u 
are  lost.  1'iie  will  can  ac'('om|)lish  its  j>ui'j>oseonly  In 
resolutely  shuttinj^^  the  (yes  and  jthuininj^'  itsi-ll"  into 
the  hhickness  of  rejisonless  belief;  just  as  in  aiiv 
kind  of  Juimau  development  one  part  ean  reach  its 
fullest  attainment  only  at  the  c!\.pense  of  another  p.nt, 
and  the  moment  you  attempt  to  strike  the  haj>pv 
mean  you  to]»p]e  over  to  the  other  side.  If  iiolhinL; 
else,  nihilism  is  (piickly  reached;  just  as  Spinoza,  in 
abiiinloiiiii'^c  Judaism  without  aeciptinL,'"  christiauit\ 
beeanif,  ;is  soini'  said,  the  I'lank  leaf  bctwern  tiie  ohi 
testament  and  the  m  w . 

Mind  ])ro<vi-ess(.'s  in  surt^^es.  An  tx'^o  of  ske])ticisin 
succeeds  ;m  ai^c  t>f  faith.  History  separates  ei\ili/.;i 
tion  into  perio<ls,  now  orLjanic  and  atlirmative,  no\> 
critical  and  ne^atixe;  at  one  time  creeds  and  con\  ii  - 
tions  are  established  and  di'velo|n'd,  at  another  tini' 
they  urow  old  and  die  or  are  abolisluMl.  (Jreek  and 
lioman  ])olytheism,  aii'l  Christianity,  each  marked  an 
oro'anic  perifxl ;  (ireek  philosophy,  the  rt'foiniation. 
and  mode]ii  science,  each  marked  an  epocli  of  ske[)ti- 
cism. 

There  is  no  hin'hei'  morality  than  disinterestodnes>. 
Theie  is  no  virtue  like  intellectual  liberty.  There  i> 
no  vice  so  scourn'inn'  as  ]»rcjudice.  To  be  the  slave  <<[' 
sect  oi-  jiai'ty,  or  to  bartei-  truth  for  ])ri(le  of  opinion, 
i.s  to  sell  one's  soul  to  the  father  of  lies,  i  woidd  lath.  i' 
be  till!  doi4'of  1  )ion'enes  than  hi-^h-priest  of  the  pi'oude>t 
superstition,  it  is  pitil'ul  to  see  the  waves  oi'  int(  i- 
Ici'tiial  bias  <in  whi<h  mankind  I'ide  into  I'ternity,  tu 
realize  how  little  is  true  of"  all  that  is  written  in  books 
and  newspapers,  of  .-dl  that  is  sp(»ken  by  politician^, 
preacheis.  men  of  business,  and  women  of  society. 

When  Francis  JWon  wrote,  "I  had  rather  believi' 
all  till'  fal)les  in  the  leu'ends,  and  the  tahnud,  and  tlu' 
alcoran,  than  that  this  universal  frame  is  witlioui 
mind,"  he  did  not  display  that  i^reat  wisdom  for  which 


SHADOW    ANh  SUHSTAN(  !•;. 


171 


he  is  acrrotlitcd.  Of  courso.  Bacon  was  ])f*ivil('u;(xl  t«» 
Ik'I'k'vc  wliat  ho  chose,  hut  what  lio  hclU-vi-d  <l«us  not 
all'cct  the  tact — what  anyhody  helievos  does  not  alKect 
;uiv  tart.      Tins  universal   frame   niav  n<>t  he  without 


lind  ;    let 


us 


ho))e   that  it   is  not ;  if   tl 


u-   uni\fi'sal 


ftaine  luis  not  mind,  where  does  man's  intellect  come 
from?  Bacon  was  a  ;j;reat  |)hiioso|)lier.  hut  a  had  man 
and  a  mean  man  too  imiately  mean  an<l  had  ever  to 
have  written  the  matchless  plays  of  Shakespeare,  in 
iii\'  opinion.  IMato  was  also  a  Ljreat  philoso|)lH'r, 
likewise  Aristotle  and  the  rist.  J-Jut  the  ancients  and 
th.il'  wisdom,  as  concernin'j;  things  spiritual,  wei-e  as 
ijrviiid  of  common  sense  as  what  is  too  often  preached 
upon  tlu!  suhject  to-day. 

A  thiid<inL''  man  who  deals  in  fads  is  ski^ptical 
hifnre  he  knows  it.  To  he  ar  all  titled  I'oi'  writin^j^ 
hi>toi'y,  or  indeed  [nv  wiitini;'  aiivthin'^",  a  man  nmst 
lia\e  at  his  command  a  wide  rair^i'  of  i'aets  which  he 
>taiids  i-eady  to  re<j;;ird  liiiily  and  to  haiidh'  truthfully. 
Iiiless  ho  is  ready  to  he  led  wheifscr  truth  will  take 
him  he  should  h'a\e  iiiNcst  i'jal  iu'^'  alone.  If  he  holds 
III  shadows  and  ]H'i/es  tlfui  more  than  realities,  if  he 
prefers  hiTiefs  to  truth,  it  v.'ere  hetter  he  kept  to  his 
tarin  or  his  merchandise,  and  let  teachin;^' and  piH'ach- 


i:^'  al( 
and  cant. 


one,  lor  \\v 


avc  e 


nouiiii  alroad\-  of  hypocri 


And  so  it  was  that,  as  time  and  my  work  wont  on, 
and  faith  in  traditions,  in  what  others  had  .said  and 
hijicved,  heeame  weakened;  seeing;"  in  all  tliat  had 
I"  II  written  so  mu<h  diversity  of  opinion,  .so  uuich 
palpahle  error  and  liat  contradiction,  I  foimd  within  me 
.stioiijfer  and  ev^r  incr-easiiiLf  the  desire  of  in(K'j)endont 
iiiid  ('xa(^t  thinkinij^.  Still,  as  the  rosy  e\|)ectations  of 
Nuiith  are  scorched  hy  the  li^ht  of  e.Kj»ei'ience  it  is 
litijr  comfort  to  know  that  one  is  growinj^  wiser;  it 
i--  hit  l(  comfort  to  the  oyo  of  faith  to  have  tho  dinuioss 
"t  \i>ion  roniovod,  only  to  see  its  dearest  hopes  melt 
iisio  illiniitahle  ether. 


ITS 


FROM  BIBLIOPOLIST  TO  BIBLIOPHILE. 


While  in  Europe  and  elsewhere  every  moment  of 
my  Hpnre  time  was  occupied  in  liistorical  rearliuij^  and 
in  the  study  ( »t' languajifes ;  yet  it  seenu'd  like  pourini;' 
watei"  into  a  sieve.  The  appetite  was  I'avenous,  in- 
citascd  hy  what  it  l'e<l  on.  Jio<tks!  hooks!  I  riivcllcd 
in  hooks.  After  huyiiiu'  and  scllini;',  after  ministeriiiL;- 
to  others  all  niy  hfe,  I  would  n<»w  enjoy  them;  I  wouM 
hathe  my  mind  in  them  till  saturated  with  the  better 
part  of  their  contents.  And  still  to  this  day  I  cry 
with  Horace,  Let  me  have  hooks  1  Not  as  the  languid 
])leasuro  of  Montaigne,  but  as  the  substantial  world 
of  \V  ordsworth. 

I  read  and  crammed  my  head  with  basketfuls  of  facts 
and  figures,  only  to  crowd  them  out  and  overflow  it 
with  others.  Hundreds  of  authors  I  skinnned  in  rapid 
succession  until  1  knew  or  felt  I  knew  nothing.  Then 
I  threw  aside  rea<ling  for  a  time  ami  let  my  thoughts 
loose,  only  to  return  again  to  my  beloved  books. 

Had  my  min<l  been  able  to  retain  what  it  received, 
there  would  have  beiMi  greater  hope  of  tilling  it.  The 
activities  and  anxieties  of  trade  had  left  me  unpre 
]>ared  all  at  once  to  <ligest  this  great  and  sudden  feast. 
As  I  have  before  said,  oidy  a  trained  mind  possesses 
the  power  of  j)ure  abstraction.  Even  reading  without 
I'etlection  is  a  weakening  process.  It  seemed  to  me  I 
had  no  memory  for  isolated  or  individual  facts,  that 
as  yet  there  was  no  concretion  in  my  attainments,  nctt 
enough  of  knowledge  within  me  to  coalesce,  central- 
ize, or  hold  together.  For  many  months  all  seemed 
cluiotie,  and  whatever  Avas  thrown  into  my  mental 
leservoir  appt^aii'd  to  evaporate,  or  become  nebulous, 
and  niingh'  obscurely  with  the  rest.  While  in  J^uti'ah*. 
after  my  return  from  Europe,  I  wrote  somewliat;  hut 
the  winter  w'as  s|)ent  under  a  cloud, and  it  was  not  until 
after  a  trip  to  New  York  and  Washington,  and  indeed 
a  longer  one  to  San  Francisco,  wherein  1  was  forced 
to  pause  and  reHect,that  the  sk}'  became  bright  and 
my  mental  machinery  began  to  work  with  jnecision. 
The  transition  thus  acconii)lished  was  like  the  ending,' 


OMNIPOTENT  ACCIDKNT. 


\::\ 


of  ono  life  and  the  ontcrim,'  upon  jinothcr,  so  difFuront 
iind  di.stinct  ai't3  the  two  worlds,  thu  world  of  biisini'ss 
;iii(l  the  world  of  letters. 

Ill  an  old  «liarv  Ix-i^nin  the  otli  of  N[ay,  185!),  I  find 
written:  "To-day  J  am  twi-uty-si-vcn  yoars  of  aye. 
Ill  my  youni^^t'r  days  I  used  to  think  it  |»raisoworthy 
1m  kri'[>  a  diary.  I  do  a  <^n.'at  deal  of  thinking''  at 
times;  some  of  it  may  amount  t<t  stjnu'tiiinjj^,  much  of 
it  diK'S  not.  1  ofttMi  feel  tliat  if  1  could  indultjje,  to 
the  fullest  an<l  i'rcost  extent,  in  flu;  simj)le  act  of 
(liscluuxinLj  my  thoughts  on  paper,  it  would  ail'ord  my 
mind  some  I'clief." 


To  begin  at  the  heginning.  In  ISoO  William  H. 
Knight,  then  in  my  service  as  editor  and  compiler  of 
statistical  works  relative  to  the  Pacific  coast,  was  en- 
gaged in  j)reparing  the  Ihnid-Iiook  Almnnac  for  the 
year  18G0.  From  time  to  time  he  asked  of  me  certain 
lutdks  required  for  the  work.  It  occurred  to  me  that 
\vi'  should  probably  have  frequent  occasion  to  refer  to 
hooks  on  California,  Oregon,  Washington,  and  Utah, 
and  that  it  might  be  more  convenient  to  have  them 
all  together.  I  always  had  a  taste,  more  pleasant 
than  prolitable,  for  publishing  books,  for  conceiving  a 
work  and  having  it  wrought  out  under  my  diri'ction. 
To  this  taste  may  be  attributed  the  origin  of  half  the 
hooks  published  in  California  during  the  first  twenty 
years  of  its  existence  as  a  state,  if  we  exce])t  law  re- 
jiorts,  legislative  proceedings,  directories,  and  compila- 
tions (if  that  character.  Yet  I  have  seldom  j>ublish(.'d 
anything  but  lawd)ooks  that  did  not  result  in  a  Ljss 
of  money.  Books  for  general  reading,  miscellaneous 
liooks  in  trade  vernacular,  even  if  intrinsically  good, 
tound  few  purchasers  in  California.  Tin;  tield  was  not 
laigr  enough;  there  were  not  enougii  book  buyers  in 
it  to  absorb  an  edition  of  any  work,  except  a  law- 
hook,  (n-  a  book  intended  as  a  working  tool  for  a  class. 
Lawyers  like  solid  leverage,  and  in  the  absence  of 
hooks  they  are  powerless;  they  cannot  afford  to  bo 


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IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


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23  WEST  MAIS  STREET 

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174 


FROM  BIBLIOPOLIST  TO  BIBLIOPHILE. 


1' 


without  them;  they  buy  them  as  mill-men  buy  stones 
to  grind  out  toll  withal.  Physicians  do  not  require 
so  many  books,  but  some  have  fine  libraries.  Two  or 
three  medical  books  treating  of  climate  and  diseases 
peculiar  to  California  have  been  published  in  this 
country  with  tolerable  success;  but  the  medical  man 
is  by  no  means  so  dependent  on  books  as  the  man  of 
law — that  is  to  say,  after  he  has  once  finished  his 
studies  and  is  established  in  practice.  His  is  a  pro- 
fession dependent  more  on  intuition  and  natural  in- 
sight into  character  and  causations,  and  above  all,  on 
a  thorough  understanding  of  the  case,  and  the  closest 
watclifulness  in  conducting  it  tlirougji  hitricate  and 
ever-changing  complications.  Poetry  has  often  beoii 
essayed  in  California,  for  the  most  part  doggerel;  yet 
should  Byron  come  here  and  publish  for  the  first  time 
his  Cliilde  Harold,  it  would  not  iind  buvers  enough  to 
pay  the  printer.  Even  Tuth ill's  Ilistorij  of  CaUfornia, 
vigorously  offered  by  subscription,  did  not  return  the 
cost  of  plates,  paper,  presswork,  and  binding.  Ho  wlio 
dances  must  pay  the  fiddler.  Either  the  author  or  tho 
publisher  must  make  ^n  his  mind  to  remunerate  the 
printer;  the  people  will  not  till  there  are  more  of  them, 
and  with  different  tastes. 

By  having  all  the  material  on  California  togcthci', 
so  that  I  could  see  whatliad  been  done,  I  was  enabled 
to  form  a  clearer  idea  of  what  might  be  done  in  tin; 
way  of  book-pnblishing  on  this  coast.  Accordingly  I 
requested  Mr  Knight  to  clear  the  shelves  around  liis 
desk,  and  to  them  I  transferred  every  book  I  could 
find  in  my  stock  liaving  ivference  to  this  country,  i 
succeeded  in  getting  together  some  fifty  or  seventy- 
five  volumes.  This  was  the  origin  of  my  library, 
sometimes  called  the  Pacific  ]jibrary,  but  latterly  the 
Bancroft  Lil)rary.  I  looked  at  the  volumes  tliiis 
brouijht  totjcther,  and  remarked  to  Mr  Knight,  "That 
is  doing  very  well;  I  did  not  imagine  there  were  so 
many." 

I  thousrht  no  more  of  the  matter  till  some  time  after- 


RATIONAL  PURPOSE. 


175 


ward,  happening  in  at  the  bookstore  of  Epes  Ellery, 
on  Washington  street,  called  antiquarian  because  he 
dealt  in  second-hand  books,  though  of  recent  dates, 
my  eyes  lighted  on  some  old  pamphlets,  printed  at 
different  times  in  California,  and  it  occurred  to  me  to 
iidd  them  to  the  Pacific  coast  books  over  INIr  Knight's 
(k>sk.  This  I  did,  and  then  examined  more  thoroughly 
the  stocks  of  Ellery,  Carrie  and  Damon,  and  the  Noisy 
Carrier,  and  purchased  one  copy  each  of  all  the  books, 
pamphlets,  magazines,  and  pictures  touching  the  sub- 
ject. Afterward  I  found  m3'self  looking  over  the  con- 
tents of  other  shops  about  town,  and  stopping  at  the 
stands  on  the  sidewalk,  and  buying  any  scrap  of  a 
kindred  nature  which  I  did  not  have.  Frequently  I 
would  encounter  old  books  in  auction  stores,  and  pam- 
phlets in  lawyers'  offices,  whicli  I  immediately  bought 
and  added  to  my  collection.  The  next  time  I  visited 
the  east,  without  taking  any  special  trouble  to  seek 
them,  I  secured  from  the  second-hand  stores  and  book- 
stalls of  New  York,  Boston,  and  Philadelphia,  what- 
ever fell  under  my  observation. 

Bibliomaniac  I  was  not.  This,  with  every  other 
species  of  lunacy,  I  disliked.  I  know  nothing  morally 
wrong  for  one  ])ossessing  the  money,  and  having  an 
ai'.potite  for  old  china,  furniture,  or  other  relics,  to 
hunt  it  down  and  buy  it;  but  it  is  a  taste  having  no 
[)ra('tical  purpose  in  view,  and  therefore  never  would 
satisfy  me.  So  in  books ;  to  become  a  collector, 
one  should  have  some  object  consistent  with  useful- 
ness. Duplicates,  line  l)indings,  and  rare  editions, 
seemed  to  me  of  loss  importance  than  the  subject- 
matter  of  the  work.  To  collect  books  in  an  ob- 
jectless, desultory  manner  is  not  profitable  to  either 
iniiid  or  purse.  Book  collecting  without  a  purpose 
may  be  to  some  a  fascinating  pastime,  but  give  it  an 
object  and  you  endow  it  with  dignity  and  nobility. 
Not  half  the  books  printed  are  ever  read;  not  half  the 
books  sold  are  bought  to  be  read.  Least  of  all  in  the 
rabid  bibliomaniac  need  we  look  for  the  well  read  man. 


176 


FROM  BIBLIOPOLIST  TO  BIBLIOPHILE, 


It  is  true  that  thus  far,  and  for  years  afterward,  I  had 
no  well  defined  purpose,  further  than  the  original  and 
insignificant  one,  in  gathering  these  books;  but  with 
the  growth  of  the  collection  came  the  purpose.  Acci- 
dent first  drew  me  into  it,  and  I  continued  the  pastime 
with  vague  intent.  "Very  gcuerally,"  says  Herbert 
Spencer,  "  when  a  man  begins  to  accumulate  books  ho 
ceases  to  make  much  use  of  them;"  or,  as  Disraeli 
puts  it:  "A  passion  for  collecting  books  is  not  always 
a  passion  for  literature." 

And  the  rationale  of  it?  Ask  a  boy  why  he  fills 
his  pockets  with  marbles  of  different  varieties,  will- 
ingly giving  two  of  a  kind  of  which  he  has  three  for 
one  of  a  kind  of  which  he  has  none,  and  his  answer 
will  be,  "To  see  how  many  kinds  I  can  got."  Collect- 
ors of  old  china,  of  coins,  of  ancient  relics,  and  of  nat- 
ural objects,  many  of  them  have  no  higher  aim  than 
the  boy  with  his  marbles,  though  some  of  the  articles 
may  be  of  greater  utility.  At  the  residence  of  a  gen- 
tleman in  London  I  once  saw  a  collection  of  old  china 
which  he  affirmed  had  cost  him  twenty  thousand 
pounds,  and  Ids  boast  was,  simply,  that  his  was  the 
best  and  largest  in  existence.  I  remember  with  what 
satisfaction  he  showed  me  an  old  cup  and  saucer,  worth 
intrinsically  perhaps  half  a  crown,  for  which  a  certain 
nobleman  was  pining  to  give  him  fifty  guineas.  "  But 
lie  cannot  have  it,  sir!  he  cannot  have  itl"  cried  the 
old  virtuoso,  rubbing  his  hands  in  great  glee.  After 
all,  what  are  any  of  us  but  boys? 

I  had  a  kind  of  purpose  at  the  beginning,  thougli 
that  was  speedily  overshadowed  by  the  magnitud*; 
the  matter  had  assumed  as  the  volumes  increased.  I 
recognized  that  nothing  I  could  ever  accomplish  in 
the  way  of  publishing  would  warrant  such  an  outlay 
as  I  was  then  makiny:.  It  was  not  long  before  anv 
idea  I  may  have  entertained  in  the  way  of  pecuniai  y 
return  was  abandoned;  there  was  no  money  in  making 
the  collection,  or  in  any  literary  work  connected  with 
it.    Yet  certain  books  I  knew  to  be  intrinsically  val- 


FIRST  VISIT  TO  EUROPE. 


177 


liable;  old,  rare,  and  valuable  books  would  increase 
rather  than  diminish  in  value,  and  as  I  came  upon 
them  from  time  to  time  I  thought  it  best  to  secure  all 
there  were  relating  to  this  coast.  After  all  the  cost 
ill  money  was  not  much;  it  was  the  time  that  counted; 
aiul  the  time,  might  it  not  be  as  profitable  so  spent  as 
ill  sipping  sugared  water  on  the  Paris  boulevard,  or 
other  of  the  insipid  sweets  of  fashionable  society?  It 
M as  understood  from  the  first  that  nothing  in  my  col- 
lection was  for  sale;  sometime,  I  thought,  the  whole 
iiii^ht  be  sold  to  a  library  or  public  institution;  but 
I  would  wait,  at  least,  until  the  collection  was  com- 
pK'to. 

The  library  of  Richard  Heber,  the  great  English 
bibliomaniac,  who  died  in  1833,  consisting  of  about 
1 40,000  volumes,  cost  him,  when  rare  books  were  not 
half  so  expensive  as  now,  over  $900,000,  or  say  seven 
<l()llars  a  volume,  equivalent  at  least  to  fifteen  dol- 
lars a  volume  at  the  present  time.  Two  hundred  and 
sixteen  days  were  occupied  in  the  sale,  by  auction,  of 
this  famous  collection  after  the  owner's  death.  And 
there  are  many  instances  where  collections  of  books 
have  brought  fair  prices.  The  directors  of  the  British 
Museum  gave  Lord  Elgin  £35,000  for  fragments  of 
the  Athenian  Parthenon,  collected  by  him  in  1802, 
worth  to  Great  Britain  not  a  tenth  part  of  what  the 
Bancroft  collection  is  worth  to  California.  And  yet 
1  well  knew  if  my  library  were  then  sold  it  would  not 
bring  its  cost,  however  it  might  increase  in  value  as 
the  years  went  by. 

1  had  now,  perhaps,  a  thousand  volumes,  and  began 
to  1)0  pretty  well  satisfied  with  my  cfl:brts.  When, 
however,  in  1862  I  visited  Ijondon  and  Paris,  and 
ruin  111  aged  the  enormous  stocks  of  second-hand  books 
ill  the  hundreds  of  stores  of  that  class,  my  eyes  began 
to  open.  I  had  much  more  yet  to  do.  And  so  it  was, 
when  the  collection  had  reached  one  thousand  volumes 
I  fancied  I  had  them  all;  when  it  had  grown  to  five 
thousand,  I  saw  it  was  but  begun.    As  my  time  was 


IiIT.  Ind.     12 


178 


PROM  BIBLIOPOLIST  TO  BIBLIOPHILE. 


short  I  could  then  do  little  beyond  glancing  at  the 
most  important  stocks  and  fill  a  dozen  cases  or  so;  but 
I  determined  as  soon  as  I  could  command  the  leisure  to 
make  a  tiiorough  search  all  over  Europe  and  complete 
my  collection,  if  such  a  thing  were  possible,  which  I 
now  for  the  wrst  time  began  seriously  to  doubt. 

This  opportunity  offered  itself  in  ]  SGG,  whoa 
others  felt  competent  to  take  charge  of  the  business. 
On  the  17th  of  August  I  landed  with  my  wife  at 
Quecnstown,  spent  a  week  in  Dublin,  passed  from  the 
Giant's  causeway  to  Belfast  and  Edinburgh,  and  after 
the  tour  of  the  lakes  proceeded  to  London.  In  Ire- 
land and  Scotland  I  found  little  or  nothing;  indeed  I 
visited  those  countries  for  pleasure  rather  than  for 
books.  In  London,  however,  the  book  mart  of  the 
world — as  in  fact  it  is  the  mart  of  most  other  things 
bought  and  sold — I  might  feed  my  desires  to  the  full. 

During  all  this  time  my  mind  had  dwelt  more  and 
more  upoii  tlie  subject,  and  the  vague  ideas  of  matc- 
lials  for  history  which  originally  floated  through  iny 
brain  began  to  assume  more  definite  proportions, 
though  I  had  no  thought,  as  yet,  of  ever  attempting' 
to  write  such  a  history  myself  But  I  was  obliged  to 
think  more  or  less  on  the  subject  in  order  to  determine 
tlic  limits  of  my  collection.  So  far  I  had  ■^•earchcJ 
little  for  Mexican  literature.  Books  on  Lower  Cali- 
fornia and  northern  Mexico  I  had  bought,  but  Mexican 
history  and  archeology  proper  had  been  passed  over. 
Now  the  question  arose.  Where  shall  I  draw  the  di- 
viding line?  The  history  of  California  dates  back  to 
the  days  of  Cortes;  or  more  properly,  it  begins  with 
the  expeditions  directed  northward  by  Nuno  de  Guz- 
man, in  1530,  and  the  gradual  occupation,  during  two 
and  a  quarter  centuiies,  of  Nueva  Galicla,  Nuo\;i 
Vizcaya,  and  the  Californias.  The  deeds  of  Guzman, 
his  companions,  and  his  successors,  the  disastrous  at- 
tempts of  the  great  Ilernan  Cortes  to  explore  tlio 
Pacific  seaboard,  and  the  spiritual  conquests  of  the 
new  lands  by  the  society  of  Jesus,  I  found  recorded 


BOOK-COLLECTING  AS  AN  ART. 


179 


iu  surviving  fragments  of  secular  and  ecclesiastical 
archives,  in  the  numerous  original  papers  of  the  Jesuit 
missionaries,  and  in  the  standard  works  of  such  writers 
as  Mota  Padilla,  Ribas,  Alegre,  Frejes,  Arricivita, 
and  Beaumont,  or,  of  Baja  California  especially,  in 
A'oucgas,  Clavigero,  Baegert,  and  one  or  two  im- 
portant anonymous  authorities.  The  Jesuits  were 
good  chroniclers;  their  records,  though  diffuse,  are 
very  complete;  and  from  them,  by  careful  work,  may 
l)e  formed  a  satisfactory  picture  of  the  period  they 
represent. 

Hence,  to  gather  all  the  material  requisite  for  a 
complete  narrative  of  events  bearing  on  California,  it 
would  bo  necessary  to  include  a  large  part  of  the  early 
history  of  Mexico,  since  the  two  were  so  blended  as 
to  make  it  impossible  to  separate  them.  This  I  as- 
certained in  examining  books  for  California  material 
alone.  It  was  my  custom  when  collecting  to  glance 
ihrough  any  book  which  I  thought  might  contain  in- 
formation on  the  territory  marked  out.  I  made  it  no 
jiart  of  my  duty  at  this  time  to  inquire  into  the  nature 
or  (|uality  of  the  production;  it  might  be  the  soundest 
science  or  the  sickliest  of  sentimental  fiction.  I  did 
not  stop  to  consider,  I  did  not  care,  whether  the  book 
was  of  any  value  or  not;  it  was  easier  and  cheaper 
to  buy  it  than  to  spend  time  in  examining  its  value. 
J)csi(les,  in  making  such  a  collection  it  is  impossible  to 
determine  at  a  glance  what  is  of  value  and  what  is 
not.  The  most  worthless  trash  may  prove  some  fact 
wherein  the  best  book  is  deficient,  and  this  makes  the 
ti'ash  valuable.  The  thoughtful  may  learn  from  the 
!^tui)id  much  respecting  the  existence  of  which  the 
possessor  himself  was  ignorant.  In  no  other  way 
*'oiil(l  I  have  made  the  collection  so  speedily  perfect; 
so  peT'fect,  indeed,  that  I  have  often  been  astonished, 
ill  writing  on  a  subjeot  or  an  epoch,  to  find  how  few 
iiii])ortant  books  were  lacking.  An  investigator  should 
have  before  him  all  that  has  been  said  upon  his  sub- 
ject; he  will  then  make  .such  use  of  it  as  his  judgment 


180 


FROM  BIBLIOPOLIST  TO  BIBLIOPHILE. 


9 


dictates.  Nearly  every  work  in  existence,  or  which 
was  referred  to  by  the  various  authorities,  I  found  on 
my  shelves.  And  this  was  the  result  of  my  method 
of  collecting,  which  was  to  buy  everything  I  could 
obtain,  with  the  view  of  winnowing  the  information 
at  my  leisure. 

Months  of  precious  time  I  might  easily  have  wasted 
to  save  a  few  dollars ;  and  even  then  there  would  have 
been  no  saving.  I  would  not  sell  to-day  out  of  tho 
collection  the  most  worthless  volume  for  twice  its 
cost  in  money.  Every  production  of  every  brain  is 
worth  something,  if  only  to  illustrate  its  own  worth- 
lessness.  Every  thought  is  worth  to  me  in  money  the 
cost  of  transfixing  it.  Surely  I  might  give  the  cost 
for  what  the  greatest  fool  in  Christendom  should  take 
the  trouble  to  print  on  a  subject  under  consideration. 
As  La  Fontaine  says:  "  II  n'est  rien  d'inutile  aux 
personnes  de  sens."  Indeed  no  little  honor  should 
attach  to  such  distinguished  stupidity. 

A  book  is  the  cheapest  thing  in  the  world.  A 
common  laborer,  with  the  product  of  a  half  day's 
work,  may  become  possessor  of  the  choicest  fruits  of 
Shakespeare's  matchless  genius.  Long  years  of  prepa- 
ration are  followed  by  long  years  of  patient  study  and 
a  painful  bringing-forth,  and  the  results,  summed,  are 
sold  in  the  shops  for  a  few  shillings.  And  in  that  mul- 
tiplication of  copies  by  the  types,  which  secures  this 
cheapness,  there  is  no  diminution  of  individual  value. 
Intrinsically  and  practically  the  writings  of  Plato. 
which  I  can  buy  for  five  dollars,  are  worth  as  mueh 
to  me,  will  improve  my  mind  as  much,  as  if  mine  was 
the  only  copy  in  existence.  Ay,  they  are  worth  in- 
finitely more;  for  if  Plato  had  but  one  reader  on  this 
planet,  it  were  as  well  for  that  reader  he  had  none. 

Gradually  and  almost  imperceptibly  had  the  area 
of  my  efforts  enlarged.  From  Oregon  it  was  but  a 
step  to  British  Columbia  and  Alaska;  and  as  I  was 
obliged  for  California  to  go  to  Mexico  and  Spain,  it 
finally  became  settled  to  my  mind  to  make  the  west- 


SECOND  VISIT  TO  EUROPE. 


181 


crn  half  of  North  America  my  field,  including  in  it 
the  whole  of  Mexico  and  Central  America.  And 
thereupon  I  searched  the  histories  of  Europe  for  in- 
formation concerning  their  New  World  relations;  and 
the  archives  of  Spain,  Italy,  France,  and  Great  Britain 
were  in  due  time  examined. 


In  London  I  spent  about  three  months,  and  went 
faithfully  through  every  catalogue  and  every  stock  of 
books  likely  to  contain  anything  on  the  Pacific  coast. 
Of  these  there  were  several  score,  new  and  old.  It 
was  idle  to  enter  a  shop  and  ask  the  keeper  if  he  had 
;uiy  works  on  California,  Mexico,  or  the  Hawaiian 
islands :  the  answer  was  invariably  No.  And  though 
I  might  pick  up  half  a  dozen  books  under  his  very 
eyes,  the  answer  would  still  be,  if  you  asked  him,  No. 
California  is  a  long  way  from  London,  much  farther 
than  London  is  from  California.  None  but  a  very 
intelligent  bookseller  in  London  knows  where  to  look 
for  printed  information  concerning  California.  The 
(»nly  way  is  to  examine  catalogues  and  search  through 
stocks,  trusting  to  no  one  but  yourself 

Believing  that  a  bibliography  of  the  Pacific  States 
would  not  only  greatly  assist  me  in  my  search  for 
books  but  would  also  be  a  proper  thing  to  publish 
some  day,  I  employed  a  man  to  search  the  principal 
libraries,  such  as  the  library  of  the  British  Museum 
and  the  library  of  the  Royal  Geographical  Society, 
and  make  a  transcript  of  the  title  of  every  book,  manu- 
script, pamphlet,  and  magazine  article,  touching  this 
territory,  with  brief  notes  or  memoranda  on  the  sub- 
ject-matter. It  was  necessary  that  the  person  em- 
ployed should  be  a  good  scholar,  familiar  with  books, 
and  have  at  his  command  several  languages.  The 
l>c]son  employed  was  Joseph  Walden,  and  the  price 
piid  him  was  two  guineas  a  week.  My  agent,  Mr  J. 
^^'llitaker,  proprietor  of  The  Bookseller,  engaged  him 
for  me  and  superintended  the  work,  which  was  con- 
tinued during  the  three  months  I  remained  in  Lon- 


188 


FROM  BIBLIOPOLIST  TO  BIBLIOPHILE. 


don,  and  for  about  eight  months  thereafter.  Tlie 
titles  and  abstracts  were  entered  upon  paper  cards 
about  four  inches  square;  or,  if  one  work  contained 
more  matter  than  could  be  properly  described  within 
tliat  space,  the  paper  would  bo  cut  in  strips  of  a  uni- 
form width,  but  of  the  requisite  length,  and  folded  to 
the  uniform  size.  The  cost  of  this  catalogue  was  a 
little  over  a  thousand  dollars.  In  consulting  material 
in  these  libraries,  which  contain  much  that  exists 
nowhere  else,  this  list  is  invaluable  as  a  guide  to  the 
required  information.  It  might  be  supposed  that  tlii  > 
printed  catalogues  of  the  respective  libraries  would 
give  their  titles  in  such  a  way  as  to  designate  the  con- 
tents of  the  works  listed,  but  this  is  not  always  the 
case.  The  plan  adopted  by  me  was  to  have  any  book 
or  manuscript,  and  all  periodicals  and  journals  of  soci- 
eties, likely  to  contain  desired  information,  carefully 
examined,  the  leaves  turned  over  one  by  one,  and  notes 
made  of  needed  material.  By  this  means  I  could  at 
once  learn  where  the  material  was,  what  it  was,  and 
turn  to  the  book  and  page. 

From  London  I  went  to  Paris,  and  searched  the 
stalls,  antiquarian  warehouses,  and  catalogues,  in  the 
same  careful  manner.  I  found  much  material  in  no 
other  way  obtainable,  but  it  was  small  in  comparison 
with  what  I  had  secured  in  London.  Dibdin  speaks 
of  a  house  in  Paris,  the  Debures,  bibliopolists,  dealers 
in  ra^e  books,  who  would  never  print  a  catalogue. 
It  was  not  altogether  folly  that  prompted  the  polic\', 
for  obvious  reasons.  Leaving  Paris  the  3d  of  January, 
1867,  I  went  down  into  Spain  full  of  sanguine  antici- 
pations. There  I  expected  to  find  much  relating  to 
Mexico  at  the  stalls  for  old  books,  but  soon  leariud 
that  everything  of  value  found  its  way  to  London.  It 
has  been  said  that  in  London  any  article  of  any  descrip- 
tion will  bring  a  price  nearer  its  true  value  than  any- 
where else  in  the  world.  This  I  know  to  be  true  of 
books.  I  have  in  my  library  little  old  worthless- 
looking  volumes  that  cost  me  two  or  three  hundred 


SPANISH  BOOKSELLERS. 


183 


(If)llars  each  in  London,  which  if  offered  at  auction  in 
San  Francisco  would  sell  for  twenty-five  or  fifty  cents, 
luiloss  some  intellicifcnt  persons  who  understood 
hooks  happened  to  he  present,  in  which  case  competi- 
tion might  raise  the  sum  to  five  dollars.  On  the 
otlicr  hand,  that  which  cost  a  half  dollar  in  London 
iiiiL^ht  sell  for  five  dollars  in  San  Francisco. 

There  were  not  throe  men  in  California,  I  venture 
it)  say,  who  at  that  time  knew  anything  either  of  the 
intrinsic  or  marketahle  value  of  old  books.  Book- 
sellers knew  the  least.  I  certainly  have  had  cxpe- 
lionce  l^oth  as  dealer  and  as  collector,  but  I  profess  to 
Iciiow  little  al)out  the  valne  of  ancient  works,  other 
than  those  which  I  liave  had  occasion  to  buy.  Let 
1110  pick  up  a  volume  of  the  Latin  classics,  for  exam- 
ple, or  of  Dutch  voyages,  and  ask  the  price.  If  the 
liook  were  as  large  as  I  could  lift,  and  the  shopman 
told  me  half  a  crown,  I  should  think  it  much  material 
for  the  money,  but  I  should  not  question  the  integrity 
dl"  the  shopman;  if  the  book  were  small  enough  for 
tlic  vest  pocket,  and  the  seller  charged  me  twenty 
pounds  for  it,  I  should  think  it  right,  and  that  there 
must  be  real  value  about  it  in  some  way,  otherwise 
tlio  man  M^ould  not  ask  so  much.  There  may  be  six 
or  eight  dealers  in  New  York,  Boston,  and  Phila- 
(Idnhia,  who  know  something  of  the  value  of  ancient 
books;  but  aside  from  these,  among  the  trade  through- 
out America,  I  doubt  if  there  are  three.  A  collector, 
devoting  himself  to  a  specialty,  may  learn  something 
])}■  experience,  by  looking  over  his  bills  and  paying 
tli'.'m,  reo^arding  the  value  of  books  in  the  direction 
(if  liis  collecting,  Init  that  must  be  a  small  part  of 
the  whole  range  of  the  science  of  bibliography. 

I  thought  the  London  shopkeepers  were  apathetic 
enough,  but  they  are  sprightly  in  comparison  with  the 
Sj)auish  booksellers.  To  the  average  Spanish  book- 
st'llor  Paris  and  London  are  places  bordering  the 
mythical;  if  he  really  believes  them  to  exist,  they  are 
nuipped  in  his  mind  with  the  most  vague  indistinct- 


SM 


FROM  BIBLIOPOLIST  TO  BIBLIOPIIILK. 


ness.     As  to  a  knowledge  of  books  and  booksellerH' 
shops  in  thogc  places,  there  are  but  few  pretensions. 

Opening  on  the  main  plaza  of  Burgos,  which  was 
filled  with  some  of  the  most  miserable  specimens 
of  nmftled  humanity  I  ever  encountered — cutthroat, 
villainous-looking  men  and  women  in  robes  of  sewed 
rags — were  two  small  shops,  in  which  not  only  books 
and  newspapers  were  sold,  but  traps  and  tiinkets  of 
various  kinds.  There  I  found  a  few  pamphlets  which 
spoke  of  Mexico.  Passing  through  a  Californian- 
looking  country  we  entered  Madrid,  the  town  of 
tobacco  and  bull-fights.  If  book-selling  houses  arc 
significant  of  the  intelligence  of  the  people — and  wc 
in  California,  who  boast  the  finest  establishments  of 
the  kind  in  the  world  according  to  our  population, 
tlaim  that  they  are — then  culture  in  Spain  is  at  a, 
low  ebb. 

The  first  three  days  in  Madrid  I  spent  in  collecting 
and  studying  catalogues.  Of  these  I  found  but  few, 
and  they  were  all  similar,  containing  about  the  same 
class  of  works.  Then  I  searched  the  stalls  and  stores, 
and  gathered  more  than  at  one  time  I  thought  I 
should  be  able  to,  sufficient  to  fill  two  large  boxes; 
but  to  accomplish  this  I  was  obliged  to  work  dili- 
gently for  two  weeks. 

To  Saragossa,  Barcelona,  Marseilles,  !>  ^ce,  Genoa, 
Bologna,  Florence,  and  Rome;  then  to  Naples,  back 
to  Venice,  and  through  Switzerland  to  Paris.  After 
resting  a  while  I  went  to  Holland,  then  up  the  Ilhiiio 
and  through  Germany  to  Vienna;  then  through  Gei- 
many  and  Switzerland  again,  Paris  and  London,  and 
finally  back  to  New  York  and  BuiFalo.  Everywheii; 
I  found  something,  and  seized  upon  it,  however  in- 
significant, for  I  had  long  since  ceased  to  resist  tlio 
malady.  Often  have  I  taken  a  cab  or  a  carriage  lu 
drive  me  from  stall  to  stall  all  day,  without  obtainin',^ 
more  than  perhaps  three  or  four  books  or  pamphlets, 
for  which  I  paid  a  shilling  or  a  franc  each.  Then 
again  I  would  light  upon  a  valuable  manuscript  whicli 


ItfEXICAN  BOOKS. 


18S 


ii'lioved  my  pocket  to  the  extent  of  three,  five,  or 
(iiffht  hundrca  dollars. 

Now,  1  thoujOflit,  my  task  is  done.  T  have  rifled 
America  of  its  treasm-es;  Europe  liave  I  ransacked; 
jiiid  after  my  succc^ss  in  Spain,  Asia  and  Africa  may 
as  well  be  passscd  by.  I  have  ten  tliousand  volumes 
and  over,  fifty  times  more  than  ever  I  dreamed  were 
ill  existence  when  the  collecting  began.  My  Ubrary 
is  a  fait  accomj)li.    Finis  coronal  opus.    Here  will  I 

I'L-St. 

]iut  softly  1  What  is  this  inch-thick  pamphlet  that 
coincs  to  me  by  mail  from  my  agent  in  London?  By 
the  shade  of  Tom  Dibdin  it  is  a  catalogue  I  Stripping 
oif  the  cover  I  read  the  title-page:  Catalogue  de  la 
Jiiche  Bibliothbque  de  D.  Jose  Maria  Andrade.  Livres 
iiKimiscrits  et  imprimes.  Litterature  Franqaise  et 
Kspagnole.  Histoire  dp  L'Afrique,  de  L'Asie,  et  de 
J! Ameriquc.  7000  pieces  et  volumes  at/ant  rapport  an 
Mi'xique  ou  iTrq.imes  dans  ce  pays.  Dont  la  rente  se 
Ji'ra  Lundi  18  Janvier  1869  et  jours  suivants,  ti  Leip- 
'J[l,  dans  la  salle  de  ventes  de  MM.  List  &  Francke,  15 
rue  de  L'  Universite,  par  le  ministh'e  de  M.  Ilerniann 
Francke,  commissaire  priseur. 

Seven  thousand  books  direct  from  Mexico,  and 
]>rol)ably  half  of  them  works  which  should  be  added 
to  my  collection!  What  was  to  be  done?  Here  were 
treasures  beside  which  the  gold,  silver,  and  rich  mer- 
chandise found  by  Ali  Baba  in  the  robbers'  cave  were 
dross.  A  new  light  broke  in  upon  me.  I  had  never 
considered  that  Mexico  had  been  printing  books  for 
tlirco  and  a  quarter  centuries — one  hundred  years 
longer  t]ian  Massachusetts — and  that  the  earlier 
works  were  seldom  seen  floating  about  book-stalls  and 
uuetion-rooms.  One  would  think,  perhaps,  that  in 
Mexico  there  might  be  a  rich  harvest;  that  where 
the  people  were  ignorant  and  indifferent  to  learning, 
books  would  be  lightly  esteemed,  and  a  large  collection 
easily  made.    And  such  at  times  and  to  some  eiitent 


186 


FROM  BIBLIOPOLTST  TO  BIBLIOPHILE. 


has  been  the  fact,  but  it  is  n.ft  so  now.  It  is  charac- 
teristic of  the  Mexican,  to  say  nothing  of  the  Yankee, 
that  an  article  which  may  be  deemed  worthless  until 
one  tries  to  buy  it,  suddenly  assumes  great  value. 
The  common  people,  seeing  the  priests  and  collectors 
place  so  high  an  estimate  on  these  embodiments  of 
knowledge,  invest  them  with  a  sort  of  supernatural 
importance,  place  them  among  their  lares  and  penates, 
and  refuse  to  part  with  them  at  any  price.  Besides, 
Mexico  as  well  as  other  countries  has  been  overrun 
by  book  collectors.  In  making  this  collection  Seilor 
Andrade  had  occupied  forty  years;  and  being  upon 
the  spot,  with  every  facility,  ample  means  at  his 
command,  a  thorough  knowledge  of  the  literature  of 
the  country,  and  familiarity  with  the  places  in  which 
books  and  manuscripts  were  most  likcl}'  to  be  found, 
he  surely  should  have  been  able  to  accomplish  what 
no  other  man  could. 

And  then  again,  rare  books  are  every  year  becoming 
rarer.  In  England  particularly  this  is  the  case.  Im- 
portant sales  are  not  so  frequent  now  as  fifty  years 
ago,  when  a  gentleman's  library,  which  at  his  death 
was  sold  at  auction  for  the  benefit  of  heirs,  almost 
always  oft^ered  opportunities  for  securing  some  rare 
books.  Then,  at  the  death  of  one,  another  would  atld 
to  his  collection,  and  at  his  death  another,  and  so 
on.  During  the  past  half  century  many  new  public 
libraries  have  been  formed  both  in  Europe  and  Amer- 
ica, until  the  number  has  become  very  large.  These, 
as  a  rule,  are  deficient  in  rare  books;  but  having  with 
age  and  experience  accumulated  funds  and  the  know  1- 
edge  of  using  them,  or  having  secured  all  desirable 
current  literature,  the  managers  of  public  librariis 
are  more  and  more  desirous  of  enriching  their  collec- 
tions with  the  treasures  of  the  past;  and  as  institu- 
tions seldom  or  never  die,  when  once  a  book  finds 
lodgment  on  their  shelves  the  auctioneer  rarely  sees 
it  again.  Scores  of  libraries  in  America  have  theii' 
agents,  with   lists  of  needed   books  in  their  hands, 


THE  ANDRADE  COLLECTION. 


187 


roady  to  pay  any  price  for  any  one  of  them.  Since 
there  is  but  a  limited  number  of  these  books  in  ex- 
istence, with  a  dozen  bidders  for  every  one,  they  are 
hecoming  scarcer  and  dearer  every  year. 

There  were  no  fixed  prices  for  rare  and  ancient 
l)ooks  in  Mexico,  and  they  were  seldom  or  never  to 
be  obtained  in  the  ordinary  way  of  trade.  Until 
recently,  to  make  out  a  list  of  books  and  expect  a 
bookseller  of  that  country  to  procure  them  for  you 
was  absurd,  and  you  would  be  doomed  to  disappoint- 
11 10 lit.  It  was  scarcely  to  be  expected  that  he  should 
ho,  so  much  in  advance  of  his  bookselling  brother  of 
Spain,  who  would  scarcely  lca\'(^>  his  seat  to  serve  you 
with  a  book  from  his  own  shelves,  still  less  to  seek  it 
elsewhere. 

Book  collecting  in  Mexico  during  the  midst  of  my 
efforts  was  a  trade  tomhe  des  nites,  the  two  parties  to 
the  business  being,  usually,  one  a  professional  person, 
representing  the  guardianship  of  learning,  but  so 
carnal-minded  as  to  require  a  little  money  to  satisfy 
his  cravings,  and  tlie  other  the  i-ecipicnt  of  the  favors, 
who  cancelled  tliem  with  monfsy.  The  latter,  ascer- 
taining the  whereabouts  of  the  desired  volume,  bar- 
gained with  a  politician,  an  ecclesiastic,  or  a  go-between, 
and  having  agreed  on  the  price,  the  place  and  hour 
were  named — which  must  be  either  a  retired  spot  or 
an  liour  in  which  the  sun  did  not  shine — whereupon 
the  book  was  produced  and  the  money  paid;  but  there 
must  be  no  further  conversation  rej^ardinQf  the  matter. 
Should  the  monastic  libraries  occasionally  be  found 
(leiieiont  in  volumes  once  in  their  possession,  owing 
to  the  absence  of  catalogue.?  and  responsible  librarians 
it  is  ditlicult  to  fasten  upon  the  guardian  the  charge 
that  such  books  and  manuscripts  had  ever  been  in  his 
possession. 

Jose  Maria  Andrade  combined  in  himself  the  pub- 
lisher, journalist,  litteratenr,  bibliopole,  and  biblio- 
phih);  and  the  tenacity  with  whicli  he  clung  to  his 
collection  was  remarkable.     Nor  was  he  induced  to 


t 


I 


11  i: 


188 


FROM  BIBLIOPOLIST  TO  BIBLIOPHILE. 


part  with  it  except  for  the  consummation  of  a  grand 
purpose.  It  was  ever  the  earnest  desire  of  the  unfor- 
tunate Maximihan  to  advance  the  interests  of  the 
country  in  every  way  in  his  power;  and  prominent 
among  liis  many  praiseworthy  designs  was  that  of  im- 
proving the  mental  conuition  of  the  people  by  the 
elevation  of  literature.  Scarcely  had  he  established 
himself  in  tlie  government  when  he  began  the  forma- 
tion of  an  imperial  lil)rary.  This  could  be  accom- 
plished in  no  otlier  way  so  fully  or  so  easily  as  by 
enlisting  the  cooperation  of  Senor  Andrade,  while  on 
the  other  hand  the  intelligent  and  zealous  collector 
could  in  no  other  way  reap  a  reward  commensurate 
with  his  lonjy  and  diligfcnt  researches.  It  was  there- 
fore  arranged  that,  in  consideration  for  a  certain  sum 
of  money  to  be  paid  the  owner  of  the  books,  this 
magnificent  collection  should  form  the  basis  of  a 
Biblioteca  Imperial  de  Mcjico.  By  this  admirable  and 
only  proper  course  the  fullest  collection  of  books  on 
Mexico,  together  with  valuable  additions  from  the 
literature  of  other  countries,  would  remain  in  the 
country  and  become  the  property  of  the  government. 
But  unfortunately  for  Mexico  this  was  not  to  be. 
These  books  were  to  be  scattered  among  the  libraries 
of  the  world,  and  the  rare  opportunity  was  forever 
lost.  Evil  befell  both  emperor  and  bibliophile.  The 
former  met  the  fate  of  many  another  adventurer  ot" 
less  noble  birth  and  less  chivalrous  and  pure  inten- 
tion, and  the  latter  failed  to  secure  his  money. 

When  it  became  certain  that  Maximilian  Mas 
doomed  to  die  at  the  hands  of  his  captors,  Senor 
Andrade  determined  to  secure  to  himself  the  pro- 
ceeds from  the  sale  of  his  library  as  best  he  might. 
Nor  was  there  any  time  to  lose.  Imperialism  in 
Mexico  was  on  the  decline,  and  the  friends  of  the 
emperor  could  scarcely  hope  to  see  their  contracts 
ratified  by  his  successor.  Consequently,  while  all  eyes 
were  turned  in  the  direction  of  Querdtaro,  immedi- 
ately after  the  enactment  of  the  bloody  tragedy,  and 


THE  LEIPSIC  SALE. 


180 


before  the  return  wave  of  popular  fury  and  vandalism 
had  reached  the  city  of  Mexico,  Sefior  Andrade  has- 
tily packed  his  books  into  two  hundred  cases,  placed 
them  on  the  backs  of  mules,  and  hurried  them  to 
Vera  Cruz,  and  thence  across  the  water  to  Europe. 

Better  for  Mexico  had  the  bibliophile  taken  with 
liim  one  of  her  chief  cities  than  that  mule-train  load 
of  literature,  wherein  for  her  wore  stores  of  mighty 
experiences,  which,  left  to  their  own  engendering, 
would  in  due  time  bring  forth  healing  fruits.  Never 
since  the  burning  of  the  Aztec  manuscripts  by  the 
1  >igot  Zumiirraga  had  there  fallen  on  the  country  such 
a  loss.  How  comparatively  little  of  human  experi- 
ence has  been  written,  and  yet  how  much  of  that 
which  has  been  written  is  lost  I  How  many  books 
liave  been  scattered;  how  many  libraries  burned :  how 
few  of  the  writings  of  the  ancients  have  we.  Of  the 
hundred  plays  said  to  have  been  written  by  Sophocles, 
only  seven  are  preserved. 

M.  Deschamps  says  of  Sefior  Andrade's  collection: 
"The  portion  of  this  library  relating  to  Mexico  is  in- 
contestably  unique,  and  constitutes  a  collection  which 
neither  the  most  enlightened  care,  the  most  patient 
investigation,  nor  the  gold  of  the  richest  placers  could 
ref)roduce.  The  incunabula  of  American  typography, 
six  Gothic  volumes  head  the  list,  printed  from  1543 
to  1547,  several  of  which  have  remained  wholly  un- 
known to  bibliographers;  then  follows  a  collection  of 
documents,  printed  and  in  manuscript,  by  the  help 
of  wliich  the  impartial  writer  may  reestablish  on  its 
triKi  basis  the  history  of  the  firm  domination  held  by 
Spiun  over  these  immense  territories,  from  the  time 
of  Cortds  to  the  glorious  epoch  of  the  wars  of  Inde- 
jxiuicnce.  The  manuscripts  are  in  part  original  and 
in  part  copies  of  valuable  documents  made  with  great 
caro  from  the  papers  preserved  in  the  archives  of  the 
empire  at  Mexico.  It  is  well  known  that  access  to 
tlu'so  archives  is  invariably  refused  to  the  public,  and 
that  it  required  the  sovereign  intervention  of  an  en- 


190 


FROM  BIBLIOPOLIST  TO  BIBLIOPHILE. 


lightened  prince  to  render  possible  the  long  labors  of 
transcription." 

Such  is  the  history  of  the  collection  of  which  I 
now  received  a  catalogue,  with  notice  of  sale  beginning 
the  18th  of  January,  1869.  Again  I  asked  myself. 
What  was  to  be  done?  Little  penetration  was  neces- 
sary to  see  that  this  sale  at  Leipsic  was  most  im- 
portant; that  such  an  opportunity  to  secure  Mexican 
books  never  had  occurred  before  and  could  never 
occur  again.  It  was  not  among  the  possibilities  that 
Senor  Andrade's  catalogue  should  ever  be  duplicated. 
The  time  was  too  short  for  me,  after  receiving  the 
catalogue,  to  reach  Leipsic  in  person  previous  to  the 
sale.  The  great  satisfaction  was  denied  me  to  make 
out  a  list  of  requirements  with  my  own  catalogue 
and  the  catalogue  of  Andrade  before  me.  Yet  I  was 
determined  not  to  let  the  opportunity  slip  without 
securing  something,  no  matter  at  what  hazard  or  at 
what  sacrifice. 

Shutting  my  eyes  to  the  consequences,  therefore, 
I  did  the  only  thing  possible  under  the  circumstances 
to  secure  a  portion  ";f  that  collection:  I  telegraphetl 
my  agent  in  London  five  thousand  dollars  earnest 
money,  with  instructions  to  attend  the  sale  and  pur- 
chase at  his  discretion.  I  expected  nothing  less  tlian 
large  lots  of  duplicates,  with  many  books  which  I  did 
not  care  for;  but  in  this  I  was  agreeably  disappointed. 
Though  my  agent,  Mr  Whitaker,  was  not  very  familiar 
with  the  contents  of  my  library,  he  was  a  practical 
man,  and  thoroughly  versed  in  the  nature  and  value 
of  books,  and  the  r-esult  of  his  purchase  was  to  increase 
my  collection  with  some  three  thousand  of  the  rarest 
and  most  valuable  volumes  extant. 

There  were  in  this  purchase  some  works  that  gave 
me  duplicates,  and  some  books  bought  only  for  their 
rarity,  such  as  specimens  of  the  earliest  printing  in 
Mexico,  and  certain  costly  linguistic  books.  But  on 
the  whole  I  was  more  than  pleased;  I  was  delighted. 
A  sum  five  times  larger  than  the  cost  of  the  boolcs 


NOTABLE  SALES. 


191 


would  not  have  taken  them  from  me  after  they  were 
once  in  my  possession,  from  the  simple  fact  that  though 
I  sliould  live  a  hundred  years  I  would  not  see  the  time 
Avlieu  I  could  buy  any  considerable  part  of  them  at 
any  price.  And  furthermore,  no  sooner  had  I  begun 
authorship  than  experience  taught  me  that  the  works 
thus  collected  and  sold  by  Seilor  Andrade  included 
foreign  books  of  the  highest  importance.  There 
Avere  among  them  many  books  and  manuscripts  inval- 
uable for  a  working  library.  It  seemed  after  all  as 
though  Mr  Whitaker  had  instinctively  secured  what 
was  most  wanted,  allowing  very  few  of  the  four  thou- 
sand four  hundred  and  eighty -four  numbers  of  the 
catalogue  to  slip  through  his  fingers  that  I  would  have 
purchased  if  present  in  person. 

But  this  was  not  the  last  of  the  Andrade-Maxi- 
inilian  episode.  Another  lot,  not  so  large  as  the 
Lcipsic  catalogue,  but  enough  to  constitute  a  very 
important  sale,  was  disposed  of  by  auction  in  London, 
by  Puttick  and  Simpson,  in  June  of  the  same  year. 
The  printed  list  was  entitled:  Bihliotheca  Mejiccma. 
A  Catalogue  of  an  extraordinary  collection  of  hooks 
rdating  to  Mexico  and  North  and  South  America,  from 
the  first  introduction  of  iwinting  in  the  New  World, 
A.  D.  1544,  to  A.D.  1868.  Collected  during  20  years' 
official  residence  in  Mexico.  Mr  Whitaker  likewise 
attended  this  sale  for  me,  and  from  his  purchases  I 
was  enabled  still  further  to  fill  gaps  and  perfect  the 
collection. 

Prior  to  these  large  purchases,  namely  in  Decem- 
ber, 1868,  Mr  Whitaker  made  some  fine  selections 
for  nie  at  a  public  snlo  in  Paris.  This  same  year  was 
sold  in  New  York  toe  library  of  A.  A.  Smet,  and 
the  year  previous  had  been  sold  that  of  Richard  W. 
Roclio.  The  library  of  George  W.  Pratt  was  sold 
in  New  York  in  March,  1868;  that  of  Amos  Dean,  at 
private  sale,  in  New  York  the  same  year;  that  of  W. 
L.  Mattison  in  New  York  in  April,  1869;  that  of  John 
A.  Rice  in  New  York  in  March,  1870;  that  of  S.  G. 


192 


FROM  BIBLIOPOLIST  TO  BIBLIOPHILE. 


I 


Drake  in  Boston  in  May  and  June,  1876;  that  of 
John  W.  Dwindle  in  San  Francisco  in  July,  1877; 
that  of  George  T.  Strong  in  New  York  in  November, 
1878;  that  of  Milton  S.  Latham  in  San  Francisco  in 
April,  1879;  that  of  Gideon  N.  Searing  in  New  York 
in  May,  1880;  that  of  H.  R.  Schoolcraft  in  New  York 
in  November,  1880;  that  of  A.  Oakey  Hall  in  New 
York  in  January,  1881;  that  of  J.  L.  Hasmar  in 
Philadelphia  in  March,  1881 ;  that  of  George  Brinley 
in  New  York,  different  dates;  that  of  W.  B.  Law- 
rence in  New  York  in  1881-2;  that  of  the  Sunderland 
Library,  first  part,  in  London  in  1881;  that  of  W.  C. 
Prescott  in  New  York  in  December,  1881;  and  that 
of  J.  G.  Keil  in  Leipsic  in  1882; — from  each  of  which 
I  secured  something.  Besides  those  elsewhere  enu- 
merated there  were  to  me  memorable  sales  in  Lisbon, 
New  York,  and  London,  in  1870;  in  London  and  New 
York  in  1872;  in  Paris,  Leipsic,  and  New  York,  in 
1873,  and  in  New  York  in  1877.  The  several  sales 
in  London  of  Henry  G.  Bohn,  retiring  from  business, 
were  important. 

The  government  officials  in  Washington  and  the 
officers  of  the  Smithsonian  Institution  have  always 
been  very  kind  and  liberal  to  me,  as  have  the  Pacific- 
coast  representatives  in  congress.  From  members  of 
the  Canadian  cabinet  and  parliament  I  have  received 
valuable  additions  to  my  library.  From  the  many 
shops  of  Nassau  street,  New  York,  and  from  several 
stores  and  auction  sales  in  Boston,  I  have  been  recei\  - 
ing  constant  additions  to  my  collection  for  a  period  of 
over  a  quarter  of  a  century. 

From  the  Librairie  Tross  of  Paris  in  April,  1870, 
I  obtained  a  long  list  of  books,  selected  from  a  cata- 
logue. So  at  various  times  I  have  received  accessions 
from  Maisonneuve  et  C'*^,  Paris,  notably  quite  a  ship- 
ment in  September,  1878.  From  Triibner,  Quaritch, 
Rowell,  and  others,  in  London,  the  stream  was  con- 
stant, though  not  large,  for-  many  years.  Asher  of 
Berlin  manasred  to  offer  at  various  times  valuable  cata- 


THE  SQUUGE  COLLECTION. 


103 


loiTiics,  as  did  also  John  Russell  Smith  of  London; 
v.  A.  Brockhaus  of  Loipsic;  Murguia  of  Mexico, 
;ind  Madrilena  of  Mexico;  Mullcr  of  Amsterdam; 
Weigel  of  Leipsic;  Robert  Clarke  &  Co.  of  Cincinnati ; 
Schoiblo  of  Stuttgart;  Bouton  of  Now  York;  Hcnrv 
Miller  of  New  York,  and  Olivier  of  Bruxelles.  Henry 
Stevens  of  London  sold  in  Boston,  through  Leonard, 
liy  auction  in  April,  lL/0,  a  collection  of  five  thousand 
^•()lumes  of  American  history,  which  he  catalogued 
under  the  title  of  Bihliotheca  Ilistorica,  at  which  time 
he  claimed  to  have  fifteen  thousand  similar  volumes 
stored  at  4  Trafalgar  square. 

Li  April,  187G,  was  sold  by  auction  in  New  York 
the  collection  of  Mr  E.  G.  Squier,  relating  in  a  great 
measure  to  Central  America,  where  the  collector, 
wliun  quite  young,  was  for  a  time  United  States 
iniiiister.  Being  a  man  of  letters,  the  author  of  sev- 
ttal  books,  and  many  essays  and  articles  on  ethnology, 
history,  and  politics,  and  a  member  of  home  and 
Ibruign  learned  societies,  Mr  Squier  was  enabled  by 
his  position  to  gratify  his  tastes  to  their  full  extent, 
and  he  availed  himself  of  the  opportunities.  His 
hbiary  was  rich  in  manuscripts,  in  printed  and  manu- 
script maps,  and  in  Central  American  newspapers,  and 
poHtical  and  historical  pamphlets.  There  were  some 
tine  original  drawings  by  Catherwood  of  ruins  and 
nmnolith  idols,  and  some  desirable  engravings  and 
jihotographs.  Books  from  the  library  of  Alexander 
Vun  Humboldt  were  a  feature,  and  there  was  a 
section  on  Scandinavian  literature.  In  regard  to 
his  manuscripts,  which  he  intended  to  translate  and 
print,  the  publication  of  Palacio,  Cartas,  being  the 
ijcginning,  Mr  Squier  said :  "  A  large  part  of 
these  were  obtained  from  the  various  Spanish  ar- 
ehives  and  depositories  by  my  friend  Buckingham 
Sinitli,  late  secretary  of  the  legation  of  the  United 
Stati 's  in  Spain.  Others  were  procured  during  my 
iesi(h'rice  in  Central  America  eitlier  in  person  or 
through  the  intervention  of  friends."   I  gladly  availed 

Lit.  Ind.    13 


104 


FROM  BIBLIOPOLIST  TO  BIBLIOPHILE. 


i 


myself  of  tlio  opportunity  to  purcliase  at  this  salo 
whatever  the  collection  contained  and  my  library 
lacked.  Of  Mr  Squier's  library  Mr  Sabin  testified: 
"In  the  department  relative  to  Central  America  tlu; 
collection  is  not  surpassed  by  any  other  within  our 
knowledge;  many  of  these  books  being  published  in 
Central  America,  and  having  rarely  left  the  land  of 
their  birth,  arc  of  great  value,  and  are  almost  unkncnvii 
outside  the  localities  from  which  they  were  issued." 

The  next  most  important  opportunity  was  the  sale, 
by  auction,  of  the  library  of  Caleb  Cushing  in  Boston, 
in  October,  1879.  This  sale  was  attended  for  me  by  ^fr 
Lauriat,  and  the  result  was  in  everyway  satislactoiv. 

Quite  a  remarkable  sale  was  that  of  the  library  of 
Ramirez,  by  auction,  in  London  in  July  1880,  not  so 
nmch  in  regard  to  numbers,  for  there  were  but  1200,  as 
in  variety  iind  prices.  The  title  of  the  catalogue  reads 
as  follows:  Bihliotheca  Alexicana.  A  catalogue  of  the 
Library  of  rare  hooks  and  important  mamtscripts,  re- 
lating to  Mexico  and  other  parts  of  Spanish  America, 
formed  by  the  late  Senor  Don  Jose  Fernando  Ramirez, 
president  of  the  late  Emperor  Maximilian  s  first  min- 
istry, comprising  fine  specimens  of  the  2^resses  of  the 
early  Mexican  typographers  Juan  Cromberger^  Juan 
Pahlos,  Antonio  Espinosa,  Pedro  Ocharte,  Pedro  Bal/i, 
Antonio  Ricardo,  Melchior  Ocharte;  a  large  numher  of 
works,  both  jwinted  and  manuscript,  on  the  Mexiccn 
Indian  languages  and  dialects;  the  civil  and  ccch'sl- 
astical  history  of  Mexico  and  its  provinces;  collections 
of  laws  and  ordinances  relating  to  the  Indies.  Valuahic 
unpublished  manuscripts  relating  to  the  Jesuit  missions 
in  Texas,  California,  China,  Peru,  Chili,  Brasil,  etc; 
collections  of  documents;  sermons  preached  in  Mexico; 
etc.,  etc.  Ramirez  was  a  native  of  the  city  of  Dii- 
rango,  where  he  had  been  educated  and  admitted  to 
the  bar,  rising  to  eminence  as  state  and  federal  judi^e. 
He  was  at  one  time  head  of  the  national  museum  of 
Mexico;  also  minister  of  foreign  affairs,  and  again 
president  of  Maximilian's  first  ministry.     Upon  the 


THE  RAMIREZ  SALE. 


106 


retirement  of  the  Frcncli  expedition  from  Mexico 
Soilor  Ramirez  went  to  Europe  and  took  up  his  resi- 
(knco  at  Bonn,  wliere  he  died  in  1871.  The  books 
comprising  the  s.ale  formed  the  second  collection  made 
l)y  this  learned  bibliographer,  the  first  having  been 
sold  to  become  the  foundation  of  a  state  library  in  the 
city  of  Durango.  The  rarest  works  of  the  first  col- 
It  rtion  were  reserved,  however,  to  form  the  nucleus  of 
the  second,  which  was  formed  after  he  removed  to  the 
capital;  his  high  public  position,  his  reputation  as 
s'liolar  and  bibliographer,  and  his  widely  extended 
iiiHucnce  affording  him  the  best  facilities.  Many  of 
liis  literary  treasures  were  obtained  from  the  convents 
after  the  suppression  of  the  monastic  orders.  From 
tlie  collection,  as  it  stood  at  th>'  death  of  Ramirez, 
his  heirs  permitted  A.  Chavero  to  select  all  works 
relating  to  Mexico.  "Wo  believe  we  do  not  exag- 
ti^oratc,"  the  sellers  affirmed,  "when  we  say  that  no 
similar  collection  of  books  can  ao;ain  be  brouGiht  into 
tho  Encflish  market."  Writinij  me  in  18G9  refjard- 
iiiLj  the  Paris  and  London  sales  of  that  year,  Mr 
Whitaker  says:  "If  I  may  argue  from  analogy,  I  do 
ixit  think  that  many  more  Mexican  books  will  come 
to  Europe  for  sale.  I  remember  some  twenty-five 
years  ago  a  similar  series  of  sales  of  Spanish  books 
which  came  over  here  in  consequence  of  the  revolu- 
tion, but  for  many  years  there  have  been  none  to 
speak  of"  Thus  we  find  the  same  idea  expressed  by 
an  expert  eleven  years  before  the  Ramirez  sale.  In 
one  sense  both  opinions  proved  true;  the  collections 
were  different  in  character,  and  neither  of  them  could 
l>e  even  approximately  duplicated.  With  regard  to 
I>i'iccs  at  the  respective  sales  of  18G9  Mr  Wliitakor 
itniarks:  "Some  of  the  books  sold  rather  low  con- 
sidering their  rarity  and  value,  but  on  the  whole  prices 
ruled  exceedingly  high."  Had  Mr  Whitaker  attended 
the  Ramirez  sale  he  would  have  been  simply  astounded. 
If  ever  tho  prices  of  Mexican  books  sold  prior  to 
this  memorable  year  of  1880  could  in  comparison  be 


190 


FROM  BIBLIOPOLIST  TO  BIBLIOPHILE. 


called  high,  such  .sales  Imvc  been  wholly  outside  of  my 
knowhjdgc.  I  had  before  paid  hundreds  of  dollars 
for  a  thin  12mo  volume;  but  a  bill  wherein  page  after 
page  the  items  run  from  $50  to  $700  is  apt  to  call 
into  question  the  general  sanity  of  mankind.  And  yet 
this  was  at  public  sale,  in  the  chief  book  mart  of  tlu; 
woild,  and  it  is  to  be  supposed  that  the  volumes  were 
sold  with  fairness. 

Notice  of  this  sa]e,  with  catalogue,  was  forwarded  to 
iiic  by  Mr  Stevens,  who  attended  it  in  my  behalf  I 
made  out  my  list  and  sent  it  on  with  general  instruc- 
tions, but  without  special  limit;  I  did  not  suppose  the 
whole  lot  would  amount  to  over  $10,000  or  $12,000. 
The  numbers  I  ordered  brought  nearer  $30,000.  j\Ir 
Stevens  did  not  purchase  them  al^  preferring  to  forego 
his  commissions  rather  than  subject  me  to  such  fear- 
fully high  prices.  My  chief  consolation  in  drawing  a 
check  for  the  purchase  was  that  if  books  were  worth 
the  prices  brought  at  the  Ramirez  sale  my  library 
would  foot  up  a  million  of  dollars.  And  yet  Mr  Stevens 
writes :  "  On  the  whole  you  have  secured  your  lots  very 
reasonably.  A  few  are  dear;  most  of  them  are  cheap. 
The  seven  or  eight  lots  that  you  put  in  your  tliirtl 
class,  and  which  Mr  Quaritch  or  Count  Heredia 
bought  over  my  bids,  you  may  rest  assured  went 
dear  enough."  There  were  scarcely  any  purchasers 
other  than  the  three  bidders  above  named,  thougli 
Mr  Stevens  held  orders  likewise  for  the  British  j\1u- 
seuni  library.  There  was  no  calling  off  or  hammering 
by  the  auctioneer.  The  bidders  sat  at  a  table  on  whic-li 
was  placed  the  book  to  be  sold;  each  made  his  bids 
and  the  seller  recorded  the  highest. 

Referring  once  more  to  Mr  Walden  and  his  work, 
Mr  Whitaker  writes  in  April,  1869:  "The  delay  in 
sending  off  all  the  Andrade  books  arose  from  the 
desire  to  have  them  catalogued.  Mr  Walden  has  been 
terribly  slow  over  the  work,  but  it  was  difficult  to  stop. 
He  has  now  finished  all  that  I  bought  first,  and  I  told 


THK  RESULT  IX  18C9. 


197 


liini  that  lio  is  altoi^L'tlu'i"  to  suspend  operations  upon 
your  account  after  Saturday,  May  1st,  to  which  date  I 
liavc  paid  liini.  It  a])j)ears  to  nie  tliat  you  will  now 
have  cnouj^h  materials  in  the  l)ooks  you  have  hou«jfht 
.111(1  the  sale  catalogues,  etc.,  to  enaljle  you  to  get  all 
the  information  you  re(|uire.  Walden  sees  his  way  to 
seven  years'  more  work."  And  from  Mr  Walden  him- 
self a  month  later:  "It  has  afforded  me  great  pleas- 
iiii'  to  hear  at  different  times  from  Mr  Whitaker  that 
you  are  satisfied  with  the  slips  received,  and  the 
manner  in  which  I  have  catalogued  the  books.  In 
I'ollowing  out  your  instructions  much  time  must  evi- 
dently bo  taken  up  in  searching  for  works  on  the 
various  subjects,  and  the  time  and  money  thus  spent 
will  assuredly  repay  itself  in  having  such  a  list  of 
hooks  on  the  various  suljjects  required,  and  on  that 
jiait  of  America;  it  will  not  have  its  equal  in  any 
catalogue  yet  made.  I  have  not  yet  catalogued  the 
whole  of  the  manuscripts  relating  to  your  subjects  in 
the  l^ritish  Museum." 

Thus  it  was  that  in  1 800,  ton  years  after  beginning  to 
collect,  after  the  Maximilian  sale,  but  before  those  of 
Iiainircz,  Squier,  and  m.any  ot^  ors,  I  found  in  ray  pos- 
session, including  pamphlets,  about  sixteen  thousand 
volumes;  and  with  these,  w^liich  even  before  its  com- 
plrlion  I  placed  on  the  fifth  floor  of  the  Market-street 
iniikling,  I  concluded  to  begin  work.  As  a  collector, 
however,  I  continued  lying  in  wait  for  opportunities. 
All  the  new  books  published  relative  to  the  subject 
weie  immediately  added  t(5  the  collection,  with  oc- 
fasional  single  copies,  or  little  lots  of  old  books  secured 
by  my  agents.  Before  leaving  Europe  I  appointed 
ai^t'iits  in  other  principal  cities  besides  London  to 
|iuichase,  as  opportunity  offered,  whatever  I  lacked. 
There  were  many  other  notable  additions  to  the 
lilnary  from  sources  not  yet  mentioned,  of  which  I 
shall  take  occasion  to  speak  during  the  progress  of 
this  history  of  my  work. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


THE  LIBRARY. 


Could  a  man  Ixs  scciiro 

That  lii.s  (liiyx  woiiM  onduro 

Ah  of  old,  for  a  tlioiisand  long  years, 

What  thiiiL's  mifjlit  ho  knt)wl 

What  dceih)  might  he  do! 

And  uU  without  hurry  or  care. 

Old  Song, 

If  as  Plato  says  knoNvled<j;e  is  goodness,  and  g<»(»(l 
ncss  (lod,  tlien  lilnaiioH  occupy  lioly  ground,  and 
books  breathe  tlie  atniosplierc  of  heaven.  Altlioui;Ii 
this  |)hiloso[)hy  inuy  be  too  transcendental  for  thi' 
present  day,  and  although  the  agency  of  evil  souie- 
tinies  appears  in  the  accumulation  of  knowledge  as 
well  as  the  agency  of  good,  thus  making  sclujlais  not 
always  heii-s  of  (jod,  we  have  yet  to  learn  of  a  coIKm- 
tion  of  books  having  been  made  for  purposes  of  v\\\, 
or  the  results  of  such  efforts  ever  having  been  other- 
wise  than  beneficial  to  the  race.  Particularly  is  such 
the  case  where  the  main  incentive  has  been  the  accu- 
mulation of  facts  for  the  mere  love  of  such  accuiiiii- 
lation,  and  not  from  devotion  to  dogma,  or  for  the 
purpose  of  pleading  a  cause — for  something  o'i  the 
instinct  of  accumulation  inherent  in  humanity  may 
be  found  in  the  garnering  of  knowledge,  no  less  than 
in  the  gathering  of  gold  or  the  acquis'tion  of  broad 
acres. 

My  library,  wh(  i  first  it  came  to  bo  called  a 
library,  occupied  o  corner  of  the  second  stoiy  of 
the  bookstore  buildii  '  on  Merchant  street,  which  con- 
nected with  the  fron    room  on  Montgomery  street,  as 


IN  TIIK  MARKET  STHKET  DUTLDINa. 


109 


iM'Torc  described.  When  placed  on  the  fiilh  floor  of  the 
Market-street  biiildinj^,  it  oecu[»ie(l  room  e<|uivalent  to 
1  hii'ty-flve  by  one  liiindred  and  seventy  feet,  bein*i^  ubont 
lilt y  feet  wide  at  the  south  en<l,  and  iiarrowint^-  irre<,'u- 
liiily  towards  the  north  end.  The  ceilinj,'  was  low,  and 
l!if  view  broken  by  the  enclosures  under  the  skylights, 
;iiul  by  sections  of  standin<(  supports  with  which  it 
was  found  necessary  to  supplement  the  lialf  mile  and 
more  of  shelving  agaiii..t  the  walls.  Following  the 
works  of  reference,  the  books  were  arranged  ali)ha- 
httically  by  authors,  some  seventy-five  feet  at  the 
north  end,  both  walls  and  floor  room,  being  left  for 
IK  wspapers.  On  the  east  side  were  four  rooms,  two 
occupied  as  sleeping  apartments  by  Mr  Oak  and  Mr 
Xi.mos,  and  two  used  as  working  rooms  by  Mrs 
\  ictor  and  my.self  There  was  one  large  drau'ditsman'.j 
W()iking-C(junter,  with  drawers^  and  a  rack  for  ma[)s. 
The  desks  and  writing  tables  stood  principally  at  the 
soutli  end  of  the  main  library  room,  that  being  the 
lust  locality  for  light  and  air.  A  large,  high,  revolv- 
ing table  occupied  the  centre  of  my  room.  Attached 
to  it  was  a  stationary  stand  into  which  it  fitted,  or 
I'ather  of  which  it  formed  ])art.  At  this  table  I  could 
stand,  or  by  means  of  a  high  chair  with  revolving 
scat  I  could  sit  at  it,  and  write  on  the  stationary  part. 
The  circular  or  revolving  portion  of  the  table  was 
s(jnio  eight  or  nine  feet  in  diameter.  Besides  this 
niacliinc  there  were  usually  two  or  three  common 
[ilaiu  tables  in  the  room.  On  the  walls  were  maps, 
and  drawings  of  various  kinds,  chiefly  referring  to 
early  history;  also  certificates  of  degrees  conferred, 
and  of  membership  of  learned  societies. 

Ill  the  main  room,  in  addition  to  the  long  tables 
shiiwu  in  the  drawing,  there  were  a  dozen  or  so 
small  movable  tables,  and  also  aliigh  table  and  a  high 
d(.sj<,  the  two  acconnnodating  four  or  five  persons, 
should  any  wish  to  stand.  AH  was  well  arranged, 
lint  only  for  literary  but  for  mechanical  work,  for 
close  at  hand  were  compositors,  printers,  and  binders. 


200 


THK  LIBRARY. 


No  ]>lace  could  better  have  suited  my  purpose  l)ut 
f'oi-  iuteiTuptioiis,  for  I  was  never  entirely  I'ree  I'roni 
business. 

Yet,  all  throujj^h  the  dozen  >X'''H''^  the  library  was 
there  I  trembled  lor  its  safety  throuj^h  fear  of  tire,  as 
indeed  did  many  others  wlio  apj)re(riated  its  historicial 
sijjcnilieanee  to  tiiis  eoast,  well  knowinij^  that  once  lost 
no  j)ower  on  earth  could  re])roduce  it.  Hence  its  jdace 
in  this  buildiuijf  was  regarded  as  temporary  from  the 
tirst.  We  all  thought  constantly  of  it,  and  a  hundred 
times  1  have  talked  over  the  matter  of  removal  with 
^Er  Oak  and  others.  Now  and  then  the  danger  would 
be  more  vividly  brought  home  to  us  by  the  alarm  of 
tire  on  the  ])remises;  and  once  in  particular  a  fin- 
broke  out  in  the  basement  of  the  furniture  store  occu- 
])ying  the  western  sid'^  of  the  building,  tilling  the 
liUrarv  with  dcMise  snioive,  and  drivinti"  the  inmates  to 
the  roof  It  occurred  about  half-past  five  in  the  after- 
noon. The  furniture  store  was  nearly  destroyed,  and 
the  bookstore  suffered  serious  damage.  It  was  a  nar- 
row escajie  for  the  library. 

Tluis,  when  in  the  autumn  of  1881  Mr  William  !>. 
Bancroft,  my  nephew,  in  charge  of  the  manufacturing 
department,  regarded  tlie  room  as  essential  to  his  ever 
growing  pur]K)ses,  and  as  the  money  could  be  spared, 
I  lent  a  willing  ear. 

First  to  be  considered  in  choosing  a  new  locahty 
was  whetlier  the  library  should  remain  on  the})iMiiii- 
sula  of  San  Francisco,  or  take  its  place  at  some  jxiint 
across  the  bay.  Oakland  was  seriously  considertwl. 
and  San  Rafael,  not  to  mention  Sonoma,  where  l«Min 
before  my  enthusiastic  friend  (Jeneral  Vallt^jo  li.id 
otferetl  to  furnish  land  and  all  the  building  re()uiii - 
ments  free.  There  were  pleasant  jdaces  in  the  (lircc- 
tion  of  San  Mateo  and  Menlo  Park;  but  we  finally 
concluded  to  remain  in  the  city.  Before  ever  it  saw 
Market  street  I  had  divamed  of  having  the  lil)raiy 
near  my  house  on  California  street;  but  that  was  not 
to  be.     I  had  deemed  it  advisable  st)me  time   belt  no 


■■  s 


LIBRARY  SITE  SELKCTKD. 


201 


cf,  iWlwjs;  the 
lie  inmates  to 
0  in  the  ul'ter- 
estroyocl,  und 
It  was  a  uar- 

r  William  r>. 

laimtactiiriiiU' 

lial  to  his  ever 

Id  be  spared, 


to  siH  my  residence  property  in  tliat  locality,  so  tliat 
it  was  now  necessary  to  select  another  spot.  In 
makinL(  such  selection  I  could  not  take  as  f'ldly  into 
tlu!  account  as  I  would  have  liked  the  inlluence 
of  a  lihrary  u[)on  its  locality.  For  iwaniple,  wlio 
slialj  say  what  miijflit  or  nii;_;ht  not  be  the  efl'ects  upon 
tlie  <>nuluatin<>-  nuMubers  of  a  ufreat  institution  of  learn- 
iii!4',  or  ui)on  the  assembled  la.w-mak(>rs  for  the  nation, 
or  U[)on  that  <'lass  of  wealthy  and  intelligent  iidiabi 
tiuits  of  the  conunercial  n)etroj)olis  wlio  deliL;lit  in 
sciiiitiHc  or  historic  association  for  the  gocxl  of  their 
louiilry?  \Vc  cannot  set  up  in  our  miilst  a  theatre, 
hotel,  race-course,  cliurch,  or  driidvin^-saloon  without 
\\\o  whole  comnmnity  Ikmiil^  att'ectiHl  thereby.  A 
libraiy  is  not  merely  a  depository  of  learninjj;-,  but  a 
society  for  the  j>romotion  of  knowledge  in  whatsoever 
direction  its  contents  tiMids.      If  it  be  a  libr.-iry  of  law, 


medicine,  or 


theol 


oo'V 


t) 


le  corresiionduiir 


po 


di 


1 


)l'ot 


I'ssion  IS 


atlected  by  it  in  a  degree  greater  than  we  realize;  it 
it  be  a  library  of  history,  then  sooner  or  later  its  in- 
lliieiue  is  felt  in  the  direc  tion  of  historical  investiga- 
tion and  elucidation.  Tlu;  veiy  fact  of  its  existince 
pit-supposes  somewhere  a  demand  for  its  existence, 
and  this  not  without  cause  or  reason  —the  causi;  or 
ivason  being  its  use  for  the  purposes  for  which  it  was 
created;  that  is  to  say,  for  the  jvrotection  and  proinul- 
;;atioii  of  liistorical  data.  The  ed'ect  of  an  abundance 
ef  rich  historical  (.lata  on  a  local  historical  societv  is 
iinK  h  greater  than  the  elleet  of  the  socit'ty  on  the 
eoljecting  of  data.  With  tl  ^  data  at  hand,  members 
will  set  tlieinselves  at  woi'k;  wliile  if  it  be  absent 
they  will  not  seek  it. 

Afti>r  some  sc^arch  a  place  wns  found  uniting  several 
aiKantages,  and  whii'h  on  tlio  who!-;  proxt'd  satisfac- 
t  nv.  J  t  was  on  \'alencia  street,  the  natural  continua- 
tioii  of  Market  str(>et,  on  the  line  of  the  city's  growth, 
and  r  ached  by  the  cars  from  the  ferry  which  ])assed 
tile  store.  There,  on  the  west  siili',  nt-ar  its  junction 
With  .Mission  street,  I  purchased  a  k)t  one  hundred  and 


202 


THE  LIBKAEY. 


,!: 


liii 


1 


I' 
i  ^ 


t.-i 


twenty  by  one  hundred  and  twenty-six  feet  in  size, 
and  proceeded  forthwith  to  erect  a  substantial  two 
story  and  basement  brick  building,  forty  by  sixty  feet. 
In  order  that  the  building  might  be  always  detached 
it  was  placed  in  the  centre  of  the  lot,  and  to  make  it 
more  secure  from  fire  all  the  oiDcnings  were  covered 
with  iron.  A  high  fence  was  erected  on  two  sides 
for  protection  against  the  wind,  and  the  grounds  were 
filled  with  trees,  grass,  and  flowers,  making  the  place 
a  little  Eden.  On  the  glass  over  the  entrance  was 
})laced  the  number,  1538,  and  on  the  door  a  plate 
lettered  in  plain  script.  The  Bancroft  Library. 

The  building  proved  most  satisfactory.  No  attempt 
was  made  at  elaboration,  either  without  or  within; 
plain  neat  good  taste,  with  comfort  and  convenience, 
was  alone  aimed  at.  Every  part  of  it  was  ordered 
with  an  eye  single  to  the  purpose;  the  rooms  are 
spacious,  there  are  plenty  of  large  windows,  and  the 
building  is  well  ventilated.  From  the  front  door  the 
main  room,  lower  floor,  is  entered,  which,  though 
almost  without  a  break  in  its  original  construction, 
became  at  once  so  crowded  as  to  render  its  proper 
representation  in  a  drawing  impossible.  Ample  space, 
as  was  supposed,  had  been  allowed  in  planning  the 
building,  but  such  a  collection  of  books  is  susceptible 
of  being  expanded  or  contracted  to  a  wonderful  extent. 
On  the  wall  shelves  of  this  apartment  are  placed  for 
the  most  [)art  sets  and  various  collections  aggre- 
gating 1G,000  volumes.  These  sets  are  conveniently 
lettered  and  numbered,  in  a  manner  that  renders  eacli 
work  readily  accessible,  as  will  be  described  in  detail 
elsewhere.  They  consist  of  large  collections  of  voy- 
ages and  travels;  of  documents,  periodicals,  legislative 
and  other  public  papers  of  the  federal  government 
and  the  several  states  and  territories  of  the  Pacitif 
slope;  of  laws,  briefs,  .and  legal  reports;  series  ol" 
scrap-books,  almanacs,  directories,  bound  collectit)ns 
of  pamphlets,  cumbersome  folios,  Mexican  sermons, 
papcles  varios,  and  other  miscellaneous  matter.  Three 


VALENCIA  STREET  BUILDING. 


m3 


lofty  double  tiers  of  shelving,  extending  across  the 
room  from  north  to  south,  are  loaded  with  500  bulky 
files  of  Pacific  States  newspapers,  amounting,  if  a 
year  of  weeklies  and  three  months  of  dailies  be  ac- 
counted a  volume,  to  over  5000  volumes.  It  is  a 
somewhat  unwieldy  mass,  but  indispensable  to  the 
l(jcal  historian.  Also  was  built  and  placed  here  a  huge 
case,  with  drawers  for  maps,  geographically  arranged ; 
also  cases  containing  the  card  index,  and  paper  bags  of 
notes,  all  of  which  are  explained  elsewhere. 

To  the  room  above,  the  main  librarj'  and  working- 
room,  the  entrance  is  by  a  staircase  rising  iiom  the 
middle  of  the  first  floor.  Here,  seated  at  tables, 
are  a  dozen  literary  workmen,  each  busy  with  his 
s|iecial  task.  The  walls  are  filled  with  shelving  nine 
tiers  high,  containing  four  classes  of  books.  ]Most  of 
the  space  is  occupied  by  works  of  the  iirst  class,  the 
working  library  proper  of  printed  books,  alphabeti- 
cally arranged,  each  volume  bearing  a  immber,  and 
tlio  numbers  running  consecutively  from  one  to  12,000 
under  alphabetical  arrangement,  and  afterward  with- 
out arrangement,  as  additions  are  made  indefinitely. 
The  second  class  consists  of  rare  books,  of  about  400 
volumes,  set  apart  by  reason  of  their  great  value,  not 
nioruly  pecuniary,  though  the  volumes  will  bring  from 
t^oj  to  ^800  each  in  the  book  markets  of  the  world, 
l)ut  literary  value,  representing  standard  authorities, 
bii'liographic  curiosities,  specimens  of  early  printin 
and  rare  linguistics.  The  third  class  is  composed  en 
tircly  of  manuscripts,  in  1200  volumes  of  three  sub- 
<li\  isions,  relating  respectively  to  Mexico  and  dentral 
iVuiei'ica,  to  California,  and  to  the  Northwest  Coast — 
tlu;  Oregon  and  interior  territory,  British  Columbia, 
and  Alaska.  The  fourth  class  is  made  uj)  of  450 
works  of  reference  and  bibliographies.  When  the 
f'olloetion  was  placed  in  the  library  buikling  it  nuni- 
htrcd  35,000  volumes,  since  which  time  additions  have 
t^tcadily  been  made,  until  tlie  number  now  approaches 
^U,U00.    At  the  east  end  of  the  upper  room  is  situated 


(I' 


! 


204 


THE  LIBRARY. 


i 


my  private  apartment,  while  at  the  other  end  are  the 
rooms  of  Mrs  Victor,  Mr  Nemos,  and  Mr  Oak.  All 
otherwise  unoccupied  wall  space,  above  and  below,  is 
filled  with  portraits,  plans,  and  other  drawings,  en- 
gravings, and  unique  specimens,  all  having  reference 
to  the  territory  covered  by  the  collection. 

Considerable  inconvenience  had  been  experienced 
during  the  first  twelve  years'  use  of  the  library,  foi' 
want  of  proper  numbering  and  cataloguing.  Mr  Oak 
had  made  a  card  catalogue  which  about  the  time  of 
removal  to  Market  street  was  copied  in  book  form; 
but  though  the  former  was  kept  complete,  the  latter 
M^as  soon  out  of  date  owing  to  the  rapid  increase  of 
the  books.  For  a  time  an  alphabetical  arrangement 
answered  every  purpose,  but  under  this  system  boojvs 
were  so  often  out  of  place,  and  losses  so  frequent,  that 
it  was  deemed  best  on  removing  to  Valencia  street  to 
adopt  a  book-mark,  a  system  of  numbering,  and  make 
a  new  catalogue.  The  book-mark  consisted  of  a  litho- 
graphed line  in  plain  script  letters,  The  Bancrc^lt 
Library,  with  the  number.  Preparatory  to  numbei- 
ing,  the  several  classes  before  mentioned  were  sepa- 
rated from  the  general  collection,  the  whole  weeded 
of  duplicates,  and  every  book  and  pamphlet  [)ut  in 
place  under  the  old  alphabetical  arrangement.  Tlir 
main  working  collection  was  then  numbered  from  one 
to  12,000  consecutively.  This  prohibited  fui'tini' 
alpliabetical  arrangement,  and  thereafter  all  volunus 
that  came  in  were  added  at  the  end  without  reu'ard  to 
any  arrangement,  and  were  covered  by  new  numbers. 
In  regard  to  the  other  several  classes,  letters  wei'f 
employed  in  the  numbering  to  distinguish  one  from 
the  other.  The  first  catalogue  was  written  on  narrow- 
ruled  paper,  six.  by  nine  inches  when  folded,  and  then 
bound;  the  second  was  written  on  thick  paper,  fourteen 
by  eighteen  inches  when  folded,  and  ruled  for  tlie 
purpose  with  columns,  and  with  subsidiary  lines  for 
numbers  and  description.     This  catalogue    indicates 


i< 


GENERAL  CATALOGUE. 


205 


the  shelf  position  of  every  book  in  the  library;  and 
the  plan  admits  of  additions  almost  limitless  without 
l)reaking  the  alphabetic  order.  In  copying  it  from 
the  original  cards  Mr  Benson  was  engaged  for  over 
a  year.  When  completed  it  was  strongly  bound  in 
thick  boards  and  leather. 

Xo  one  can  know,  not  having  had  the  exporionco,  the 
(iidless  labor  and  detail  attending  the  keeping  in  order 
iind  under  control  of  a  largo  and  rapidly  growing  col- 
lection of  historical  data.      Take  newspapers,  for  ex- 
ample.    The  news{)aper  is  the  first  and  often  tlio  only 
printed  matter  pertaining  directly  to  the  loeal  aifairs 
sometimes  of  a   wide   area.     As   such    its   historical 
nni»ortauce  is  obvious.      It  is  tiie  only  printed  record 
of  the  history  of  the  section  it  covers.      No  collection 
I  if  early  historic  data  can  be  deemed  in   any  dtgree 
complete  without  liberal  files  of  the  daily  and  weekly 
journals.     But  when  these  files  t)f  periodicals  reach 
the  number  of  five  hundred,  as  before  mentioned,  equiv- 
alent in  bulk  and  information  to  five   thousand  vol- 
mnes  of  books,  with  large  daily  additions,  it  becomes 
puzzling  sometimes  to  know  what  to  do  with  then), 
tor  these  too  must  be  indexed  and  put  away  in  their 
proper  place  before  the  know^ledge  they  contain  can 
be  leaclied  or  utilized.      The  course  we  pursued  was 
lirst  of  all  after   collocation   to    enter  them   by  their 
names,  and  arranged  territorially,  in  a  ten-quire  demy 
record  book,  writing  down  the  numbers  actually  in 
the  library,  chronologically,  with  blank  s[)aces  left  for 
luissing  luimbers,  to  be   filled   in  as  those   numbers 
Were  obtained  and  put  in  their  places.      But  before 
l>utting  away  in  their  proper  places  either  the  files  or 
the  incoming  additional  numbers,  all  were   indexed, 
after  the  manner  of  indexing  the  books  of  the  library, 
and  desired  information   extracted   therefrom  in  tlie 
Usual  way. 

In  describing  the  contents  of  the  library,  aside 
fi'oni  its  arrangement  in  the  building,  one  would 
classify  it  somewhat  differently,  territory  and  chro- 


20(5 


THE  LIBRARY. 


nolojvy  talcing  prcoodenee  of  outward  form  and  con- 
venience, more  as  I  liavo  done  in  another  place.  Any 
allusion  in  this  volume  must  be  necessarily  very  brief; 
any  approach  to  bibliographical  analy^is  is  hereout 
of  the  question.  We  can  merely  glance  at  the  sev- 
eral natural  divisions  of  the  subject,  namely,  abori- 
ginal literature,  sixteenth-century  productions,  works 
of  the  seventeenth  and  eifjhteenth  centuries,  nine- 
tcenth-century  publications,  maps,  manuscripts,  and, 
by  way  of  a  specialty,  the  material  for  California  and 
North vv'cst  Coast  history. 

Passing  the  books  of  the  savages,  as  displayed  by 
the  scattered  picture-writings  of  the  wilder  northern 
tribes,  which  indeed  have  no  place  even  in  the  cate- 
gory first  named,  we  come  to  the  more  enduring  records 
of  the  southern  plateaux. 

First  there  arc  the  picture  records  of  the  Aztec 
migrations,  from  Gemelli  Carreri  and  the  Boturini  col- 
lection, and  representations  of  the  education  of  Aztec 
children,  from  the  Codex  Mendoza.  Specimens  of  tlio 
next  aboriginal  class,  superior  to  the  Aztec  picrure 
writing,  may  bo  found  in  the  sculptured  hieroglyphics 
covering  the  tablets  of  Palenque,  and  the  statues  of 
Copan.  Among  the  works  of  Lord  Kingsborough  and 
of  Brasseur  do  Bourbourg  are  volumes  of  free  dis- 
cussion, which  leave  the  student  at  the  end  of  his  *ii- 
vcstigations  exactly  where  he  stood  at  the  beginning. 
Then  there  is  the  Maya  alphabet  of  Bishop  Landa, 
and  the  specimens  preserved  in  the  Dresden  codex, 
which  so  raise  intelligent  curiosity  as  to  make  us  wish 
that  the  Spanish  bigots  had  been  burned  instead  of 
the  masses  of  priceless  aboriginal  manuscripts  of  whidi 
they  built  their  bonfires.  In  the  national  museum  of 
the  university  of  Mexico  were  placed  the  renmants 
of  the  aboriginal  archives  of  Tezcuco;  and  we  may 
learn  much  from  the  writimxs  of  some  of  their  fornur 
possessors,  Ixtlilxochitl,  Sigiienza,  Boturini,  Veytia, 
Ordaz,  Leon  y  Garaa,  and  Sanchez.  Clavigero  has 
also  used  this  material  with  profit  in  writing  his  history. 


ABORIGINAL  LITERATURE. 


207 


The  calendar  stone  of  the  Aztecs,  a  representation  of 
which  is  given  in  the  Native  Races,  may  be  exaniined 
with  interest;  also  the  paintings  of  the  Aztec  cycle, 
the  Azte(!  year,  and  the  iVztec  month.  Some  remains 
of  Central  American  aboriginal  literature  are  pre- 
served in  the  manuscript  Troano,  reproduced  in  lithog- 
raphy by  the  French  government. 

The  sixteenth-century  productions  relating  to  Amer- 
ica, talcen  as  one  class  begin  with  the  letters  of  Colum- 
bus written  during  the  last  decade  of  the  fifteenth 
century.  Of  these  there  were  printed  two,  and  one 
l)y  a  friend  of  the  admiral,  and  the  papal  bull  of  Alex- 
iiiider  VI.,  in  1493,  making  four  plaquettes  printed 
])rior  to  1500.  Then  came  more  papal  bulls  and  more 
letters,  and  narratives  of  voyages  by  many  navigators; 
tliore  were  maps,  and  globes,  and  cosmographies,  and 
numerous  'mundus  novus'  books,  conspicuous  among 
their  Avriters  being  Vespucci,  Peter  Martyr,  the  au- 
thors o^Ptolemi/s  Geographia,  and  Enciso,  wdio  printed 
in  151!)  his  Siima  de  Geografia.  After  these  Nvcro 
itincrarios  and  relacioncs  by  Juan  Diaz,  Cortes,  and 
others.  The  doughty  deeds  of  Pedrarias  Ddvila  were 
sung  in  1525,  and  not  long  afterward  the  writings  of 
the  chronicler  Oviedo  began  to  appear  in  print.  In 
1532  appeared  the  De  Insulis  of  Cortes  and  Martyr, 
and  in  1534  the  Chronica  of  Amandus,  and  some  letters 
hy  Francisco  Pizarro.  Between  1540  and  1550  were 
(hvcrs  plaquettes,  besides  the  Relacioties  of  Cabeza  do 
A'aca,  the  Comentarios  of  Pedro  Hernandez,  and  the 
A/)(>/o(j[a  of  Sepiilveda. 

Tliu  chief  works  touching  the  Pacific  States  terri- 
tory which  appeared  during  the  last  half  of  the  six- 
teenth century  were  those  of  Las  Casas,  Gomara, 
l:)('nzoni,  Monardes,  Fernando  Colon,  Palacio,  Acosta, 
Piiez,  and  Padilla.  The  many  accounts  of  voyages 
and  collections  of  voyages,  such  as  Ramusio,  Huttieli, 
aiul  Hakluyt,  appearing  during  this  period,  and  the 
hundreds    of  orclenanzas,  nuevas  leyes,  and   c^didas, 


208 


THE  LIBRARY. 


I  cannot  here  enumerate.  Nor  is  it  necessary  to  men- 
tion  here  the  oft  described  earHest  books  printed  in 
America. 


I  ; 


Now  chroniclers,  historians,  compilers  of  voyai^os, 
cosmographers,  and  geographers  came  forward  cluring 
the  seventeenth  and  ei<jhteenth  centuries.  Amonsx 
those  were  Ens,  Philoponus,  the  author  of  Wcst- 
Indische  Spiegliel,  Gottfried,  D'Avity,  Ogilby,  Mon- 
tanus,  Garcia,  Herrera,  Torquemada,  Villagra,  Simon, 
De  Bry,  Purchas,  Bcrnal  Diaz,  Pizarro  y  Orollana, 
Do  Laet,  Gage,  Soils,  Cogolludo,  Piedrahita,  Votau- 
curt,  and  some  English  books  on  the  Scots  at  Darion ; 
there  were  likewise  innumerable  sermons,  and  tlie 
De  Indiarum  Ivre  of  Sol6rzano  Pereira,  the  views  of 
Grotius,  the  Teatro  Eclcsidstico  of  Gil  Gonzalez  Dii/ila, 
and  other  kindred  works.  The  mission  chronicles  were 
a  literary  feature  of  the  times,  and  toward  the  latter 
part  of  the  epoch  come  the  English,  French,  and  Dutch 
voyages  of  circumnavigation. 

The  name  of  Humboldt  stands  prominent  at  the 
beginning  of  nineteenth-century  Pacific  States  liter- 
ature; and  near  him  the  Mexican  historian  Busta- 
mante.  Then  follow  Escudero,  Prescott,  Irving, 
Alaman,  Carbajal  Espinosa,  Chevalier,  Brantz  Mayer, 
Domenech, — among  voyagers  and  collections  of  voy- 
ages, Krusenstern,  LangsdorfT,  Lisiansky,  Kotzebue, 
Roquefeuil,  Beechy,  Petit-Thouars,  Laplace,  Duhaut- 
Cilly,  Belcher,  Simpson,  and  Wilkes,  Burney,  Pink- 
erton,Bicharderie,  La  Harpe,  fm({  Annales  des  Voymjcx. 

Collections  of  original  documents  are  a  feature  of 
this  century,  conspicuous  among  which  are  those  of 
Navarrete,  Ternaux-Compans,  Buckingham  Smith, 
Icazbalceta,  Calvo,  Pacheco  and  Cdrdenas,  and  of 
somewhat  kindred  character  the  works  of  Saliaguii, 
Veytia,  Cavo,  Tezozomoc,  Scherzer,  Brasseur  do 
Bourbourg,  Palacio,  Landa,  Duran,  Mota  Padilla, 
Mendieta, — and  yet  more  relating  to  the  aborigines, 
the  works  of  Cabrera,  Leon  y  Gama,  Morton,  Brad- 


ORIGINAL  DOCUMENTS. 


809 


ford,  Catlin,  Boscana,  Holmberg,  Miillcr,  Baldwin, 
Dupaix,  Waldeck,  Nebel,  Cathcrv^ood,  Charnay,  Ade- 
liing,  Du  Ponceau,  Vcniamino,  Liidcwig,  Pimentel, 
()i-ozco  y  Berra,  Arenas,  Amaro,  Molina,  Avila,  antl 
many  others.  The  century  presents  a  lengtliy  list  of 
valuable  books  of  travel,  and  physical  and  political 
(kscriptions,  such  as  the  works  of  Lewis  and  Clarke, 
, lames,  Hunter,  Cox,  Stephens,  Squicr,  Strangeways, 
^[ontgomcry,  Dunlop,  Byam,  Mollhausen,  Robinson, 
Ihyant,  Bayard  Taylor,  De  Mofras,  and  a  thousand 
others,  covering  the  entire  range  of  territory  from 
Alaska  to  Panamil.  Periodical  literature  likewise 
assumes  importance. 

With  regard  to  maps,  the  field  resembles  that  of 
books  in  these  respects,  that  it  dates  from  the  fifteenth 
century  and  is  without  end.  It  would  seem  that 
sometime  such  delineations  should  be  finished;  yet  I 
suspect  that  my  works,  as  full  and  complete  as  I  can 
make  them,  will  prove  only  the  foundation  of  a  hundred 
far  more  attractive  volumes.  In  our  examination  of 
maps  we  may  if  we  like  go  back  to  the  chart  of  the 
brothers  Zeno,  drawn  in  13 90,  following  with  Behaim's 
Globe  in  1492,  Juan  do  la  Cosa's  map  in  1500,  and 
tliosc  by  Buj^sch  in  1508,  Peter  Martyr,  1511,  that 
in  tlio  Ptolemy's  Cosmography  of  1513,  those  in  the 
Munich  Atlas  and  Schoner's  globe,  1520,  Colon's  and 
Ivibcru's,  drawn  in  1527  and  1529  respectively, 
Oi'ontius  Fine  in  1531,  and  Castillo,  1541,  showing 
the  ])oninsula  of  California,  after  which  the  number 
becomes  numerous. 


Ill  my  collection  of  manuscripts,  taken  as  a  whole, 
I  su[)i)ose  the  Concilios  Provinciales  Mexicanos  should 
bo  mentioned  first.  It  is  in  four  volumes,  and  is  a 
record  of  the  first  three  ecclesiastical  councils  held  in 
Mexico;  in  comparison  with  which  a  number  of  more 
strictly  religious  works  are  hardly  worth  mentioning — ■ 
tor  example,  the  Cathcclsmo  echo  por  el  Concilio  IV. 

Lit,  Ind.    14 


I 


210 


THE  LIBRARY. 


Mexkano;  the  Explicacion  de  la  doctrina  hecha  par  el 
Conc'dio  IV.;  (^uinarrar/a,  Joannes  de,  Pastoral,  in 
Latin;  the  Moralia  S.  Orer/orii  Papw,  and  the  hkc. 

Of  more  value  are  the  Sermones,  of  the  discursos 
paner/iricos  stamp,  and  other  branches  of  the  rcHgio- 
historical  type,  while  the  worth  of  such  works  as 
Materiales  para  la  Ilistoria  de  Sonora,  the  same  of 
Texas,  Nueva  Galicia,  Nueva  Vizcaya,  and  otlicr 
provinces  thereabout,  secured  mostly  from  the  Maxi- 
milian collection,  is  past  computation.  Among  tlie 
hundreds  of  titles  which  present  themselves  haviiij^r 
greater  or  less  claims  to  importance  are  Memorias  de 
Mexico;  Rivera,  Diario  Curioso;  Mexico,  Archivo  Gen- 
eral; Beaumont,  Cronica  de  la  Provincia  de  S.  Pedro 
y  S.  Pablo  de  Mechoacan;  Cartas  Americanas;  Gomez, 
Diario  de  Mexico.  Some  of  the  Squier  manuscri^jts 
are  Grijalva,  Relacion;  Andagoya,  Carta;  Yzaguirre, 
Pelaeion;  Alvarado,  Cartas;  Cerezeda,  Carta,  and 
Relacion;  Viana,  Gallego,  and  Cadena,  Relacion; 
Criado  de  Castilla,  Relacion;  Ddvila,  Relacion;  Docu- 
mentos  relativos  d  la  Ilistoria  de  la  Audicncia  de  los 
Confines;  Leon  Pinelo,  Relacion,  and  Velasco,  Capi- 
tiilos  de  Carta.  From  the  Ramirez  collection  I  ob- 
tained Reales  Cedulas,  Reales  Ordenanzas,  Leyes,  etc.; 
Adas  Provinciales;  Alhieuri,  Ilistoria  de  las  Misioncs; 
A  utosformados  a  Pedimento  de  esta  Noblessima  ciudad; 
Figueroa,  Vindicias;  Papeles  de  Jesuitas;  Disturhios 
de  Frailes;  Noticias  de  la  Nueva  California;  Morfi, 
Apuntes  sobre  el  Nuevo  Mexico;  Monteverde,  Menioria 
sobre  Sonora;  Monunientos  Ilistoricos;  Relacion  de  la 
Orden  de  San  Francisco  en  la  Nueva  EspaTia;  Me- 
morias p)ara  la  Ilistoria  de  la  Provincia  de  Sincdoa; 
Tamaron,  Visita  del  obispado  de  Durango;  Tumultos 
de  Mexico,  and  many  others. 

In  regard  to  the  hundreds  of  manuscript  volumes 
of  copied  archives,  histories,  and  narratives  iijion 
which  the  histories  of  the  northern  half  of  the  Pacific 
territory  is  based,  it  is  useless  here  to  attempt  any 
mention;  I  can  only  refer  the  reader  to  the  biblio- 


MANUSCRIPTS. 


911 


j^raphical  notices  in  rny  histories  of  that  region,  and 
to  other  places,  where  somewhat  more  space  is  de- 
voted to  the  subject.  It  is  impossible,  however,  to 
o'ive  in  a  few  chapters  any  adequate  idea  of  the  vast 
army  of  authors,  arranged  in  battalions,  reginients, 
and  companies,  quartered  in  the  library  building  on 
Valencia  street.  The  best  exposition  of  the  contents 
of  the  books  of  the  library  may  be  found  in  my  vol- 
ume of  Assays  and  Miscellainj,  where  I  devote  four 
chapters  to  the  literature  of  the  territory  covered  by 
iny  writings,  entitled,  respectively,  Literature  of  Cen- 
tral America;  Literature  of  Colonial  Mexico;  Liter- 
ature of  Mexico  during  the  Present  Century;  and 
Early  California  Literature.  These  chapters,  to- 
gether with  the  bibliographical  notes  carried  through 
all  my  historical  works,  and  which  I  have  endeavored 
to  make  systematic,  thorough,  and  complete,  consti- 
tute not  oidy  an  expose  of  the  contents  of  the  library, 
hut  a  very  fair  history  and  analysis  of  Pacific  States 
literature,  the  library  containiiiij  as  it  does  the  entire 
literature  of  these  lands.  While  thousands  of  authors 
must  obviously  remain  unmentioned,  yet  in  spirit  and 
in  essence  the  writings  of  the  place  and  time  are  fairly 
presented,  the  object  being  to  tell  so  far  as  possible 
all  that  has  been  done  in  the  various  fields  of  learnir)g 
and  letters. 

In  these  chapters  are  presented  not  only  results,  but 
causes,  whence  emerged,  under  conditions  favorable  or 
unfavorable,  natural  or  abnormal  developments.  The 
colonial  literature  of  Central  America  and  Mexico 
was  some  advance  on  the  aboriginal,  but  not  so  great 
as  many  imagine;  but  when  we  reach  the  republican 
era  of  material  and  mental  development,  we  find  a 
marked  change.  The  Pacific  United  States  are 
bringing  forth  some  strong  men  and  strong  books, 
though  thus  far  authors  of  repute  as  a  rule  have  conie 
in  from  beyond  the  border-line,  and  are  uot  sons  of 
the  soil. 


Mi 


IP';; 


212 


THE  UnilARY. 


A  collootion  of  iKKtks,  like  every thii)<jf  else,  has  its 
history  and  iiidividuaHty.  Particularly  \i*  this  tln' 
case  ill  rci^ard  to  eollections  limited  to  a  Hpeeial  suit 
jeet,  tiiii(\  or  territory.  Such  colle(;tioiis  are  the  re 
suit  of  hirth  and  «;rowt]i;  they  are  not  t'oiind  in  the 
market  for  sale,  ready  made ;  there  must  have  heen 
sometime  the  enufeiidering  idea,  followed  by  a  long 
natural  development. 

From  the  ordinary  point  of  view  there  is  nothint; 
remarkable  in  gatherinLj  50,000  volumes  and  provid 
itiij  a  buildinsj:  for  their  recei)tion.  There  are  inaiiv 
libraries  lar<^er  than  this,  some  of  them  having  been 
founded  and  carried  forward  by  an  individual,  with- 
out goveriifncnt  or  other  aid,  who  likewise  erected  a 
building  for  his  books.  Nevertheless,  there  are  some 
remarkable  features  about  this  collection,  some  im- 
portant |)oints  in  connection  therewith,  which  cannot 
be  found  elsewhere. 

First,  as  an  historical  library  it  stands  apart  from 
any  other,  being  the  largest  collection  in  the  world  of 
books,  maps,  and  manuscripts  relating  to  a  special 
territory,  time,  or  subject.  There  are  larger  niiissi  s 
of  historical  data  lodij^ed  in  certain  archives  or  liltra- 
ries,  but  they  are  more  general,  or  perha[)S  universal, 
relating  to  all  lands  and  peo[)les,  and  not  to  so  limitcil 
an  area  of  the  earth.  And  when  the  further  tacts 
are  considered,  how  recently  this  country  was  settled, 
and  how  thinly  peopled  it  now  is  as  compared  with 
what  it  will  be  some  day,  the  difference  is  still  iiioix! 
apparent. 

Secondly,  it  gives  to  each  section  of  the  area  cov- 
ered more  full,  complete,  and  cocurate  data  concern- 
ing its  early  history  than  any  state  or  nation  in  the 
civilized  world,  outside  of  tiiif.  territory,  has  or  over 
can  have.  This  is  a  stupendous  fact,  which  will  liiid 
its  way  into  the  minds  of  men  in  due  time.  I  repeat 
it:  so  long  as  this  collection  is  kept  intact,  and 
neither  burned  nor  scattered,  California,  Oregon,  and 
the  rest  of  these  Pacific  commonwealths  may  lind 


COMPAHATIVK  ANALYSIS. 


213 


licrc  fuller  luaterial  rcnra  ding  their  early  history  than 
Mussaehusctts,  New  York,  or  any  otiier  Amtriean 
state,  than  England,  (icrniany,  Italy,  or  any  other 
iMiropcan  nation.  The  reason  is  obvious:  they  lost 
tluir  opi)ortunity ;  not  one  of  them  can  raise  the  dead 
or  gather  from  oblivion. 

Third,  it  has  been  put  to  a  more  systematic  and 
jiiiictieal  use  than  any  t)ther  historical  libraiy  in  the 
Will  1(1.  1  have  never  heard  of  any  considerable  colhc- 
tion  being  indexed  according  to  the  subject-matter 
(•oiitained  in  each  volume,  as  has  been  the  case  here; 
or  of  such  a  mass  of  crude  historic  niiitter  beinsj  ever 
licfore  worked  over,  winnowed,  and  the  })arts  worth 
in'cserving  written  out  and  ])rinted  for  general  use,  as 
lias  been  done  in  this  instance. 

Says  an  eminent  writer:  "Respecting  jVIr  Ban- 
crotVs  J^acific  Jjibrary  as  a  storehouse  of  historic  tlata, 
lui'taining  to  this  br<:id  and  new  western  land,  but 
(iiu;  o[)inion  has  been  expressed  during  the  twenty 
viars  that  the  existence  of  such  an  institution  has 
hccii  known  to  the  world.  In  all  that  has  been  said 
or  written,  at  home  or  abroad,  by  friend  or  foe,  by 
iuliiiirers,  indifferent  observers,  conservative  critics, 
(ir  hypercritical  fault-finders,  there  has  been  entire 
uiKuiiinity  of  praise  of  the  library  as  a  collection  of 
historic  ilata.  Disinterested  and  impartial  visitors, 
iifti  r  a  personal  ins[)ection,  have  invariably  shown  a 
dL'i:^rec  of  admiration  far  exceeding  that  of  the  warm- 
est IVionds  who  knew  the  librai-y  only  from  descrip- 
tion. The  praise  of  those  who  might  be  suj^posed  to 
Ite  iiilluenced  to  some  extent  by  local  pride  has  never 
('(lualK'd  that  of  prt)minent  scholars  from  the  east 
ami  I'^urope. 

"There  is  no  American  collection  with  which  this 
can  fairly  be  compared.  There  are  other  large  a«id 
costly  private  libraries;  but  tiic  scope,  plan,  and  pur- 
post  of  the  Bancroft  Library  place  it  beyond  the  pos- 
sil)ilitv  of  comparison.  It  is  made  up  exclusively  of 
priut.  d    and   manuscript   matter   pertahiing    to    the 


I 


Wm 


2U 


THE  LIBRARY. 


Pacific  States,  from  Alaska  to  Panamd.  To  say  that 
it  is  superior  to  any  other  in  its  own  field  goes  for 
litti(>,  because  there  are  no  others  of  any  great  mag- 
nitude; but  when  we  can  state  truthfully  that  nowliBre 
in  the  world  is  there  a  similar  collection  equal  to  it,  the 
assertion  means  sometliing.  And  not  only  does  this 
collection  thus  excel  all  others  as  a  whole,  but  a  like 
excellence  is  apparent  for  each  of  its  parts.  In  it 
may  be  found,  ibr  instance,  a  better  library  of  Mexi- 
can works,  of  Central  American  works,  of  Pacific 
United  States  works,  than  elsewhere  exists.  And  t(^  sio 
further,  it  may  be  said  to  contain  a  more  perfect 
collection  on  Alaska,  on  New  Mexico,  on  Texas,  on 
Colorado,  on  Utah,  on  Costa  Rica,  and  the  other 
individual  states  or  governments  than  can  be  found 
outside  its  walls.  Not  only  this,  but  in  several  cases, 
notably  that  of  California,  this  library  is  regarded  as 
incomparably  superior  to  any  state  collection  existing, 
or  that  could  at  this  date  be  formed  in  all  the  United 
States  or  Europe. 

'There  is  no  other  state  or  country  whose  historic 
data  have  been  so  thorouo-hly  collected  at  so  early  a 
})eri()d  of  its  existence,  especially  none  whose  existence 
has  been  so  varied  and  eventful,  and  its  record  so  com- 
jtlicated  and  perishable.  Mr  Bancroft  has  attem})teil, 
and  successfully  as  is  believed,  to  do  for  his  country 
a  work  which  in  the  ordinary  course  of  events  woukl 
have  been  left  for  a  succession  of  historical  societies 
and  sjiecialists  to  do  in  a  later  generation,  ai'ter  the 
largest  part  of  the  material  had  been  lost,  and  the  ac- 
coni[)lisliment  of  the  purpose  would  be  absolutily 
impossible.  Then,  too,  from  such  work  the  resultiipj," 
stores  of  data,  besides  their  conijuirative  paucity, 
would  be  scattered,  and  not  accessible  as  a  whole  to 
any  single  investigator.  The  advantage  of  having' 
such  historic  treasures  in  one  i>lace  rather  than  in 
many  is  almost  as  obvious  as  that  of  preventing  the 
loss  of  valuable  material." 

In  this  cfMuiection  it  is  worthy  of  our  serious  c<jii- 


RARE  BOOKS. 


215 


ioriDUS  con- 


sideration   what  the  comino:  jjreat   libraries  of  the 
world  are  going  to  do  for  those  ancient  and  nnpor- 
taiit  works  which  constitute  at  once  the  ioundation 
and  gems  of  every  great  collection.    However  it  may 
1)0  some  time  hence,  it  is  certain  that  at  the  present 
(lay  no  collection  of  books  is  worthy  of  the  nanie  of 
library  without  a  fair  share  of  these  rare  ana  valuable 
works.     Particularly  is  this  the  case  in  our  own  coun- 
try, where  the  value  and  im|x>rtance  of  every  library 
must  depend,  not  on  Elzevir  editions,  elaborate  church 
missals,  or  other  old-world  curiosities,  often  as  worth- 
less as  they  are  costly,  but  on  works  of  material  in- 
tnest  and  value  relating  to  the  discovery,  contjuest, 
si'ttlement,  and  development  of  America,  in  its  many 
parts  from  south  to  north,  and  east  to  west,  from  the 
days  of  Columbus  to  the  present  time — books  becom- 
ing every  day  rarer  and  more  costly.      A  prominent 
Xcw  York  bookseller  thus  prints  in  his  catalogue,  in 
regard  to  old  and  valuable  books  as  an  investment: 
"  W'u  have  often,  in  tlie  course  of  our  experience  as 
booksellers,  heard  more  or  less  comment  on  our  prices. 
'You  have  good  books  and  rare  books,'  our  customers 
will  say,  'but  your  priceb  are  high.'     And  yet  there 
is  not  a  c»)llector  in  the  country   who  would  not  be 
ulad  to  have  books  in  his  line  at  prices  catalogued  by 
us  throe  or  four  years  ago,  could  we  supi)ly  them  at 
tlio  same  prices  now.     So  it  may  be  safely  aifirmed 
that  in  rare  books  the  tendency  of  prices  is  upward, 
till'  number  of  colloctt)rs  increasing,  a'ld  tho  diliiculty 
ill    tindintx    U'ochI    books    also    increa  inix.      We    have 
always  found  it  nu^re  difficult  to  obtain  a  really  rare 
lioiik  in  good  condition  than  to  sell  it.     To  the  ijfen- 
uino  lovor  of  books  it  may  be  said:    First  find   the 
hook  you  want,  then  buy  it,  and  if  you  think  you  have 
hrrii  oxtravagant,  repent  at  your  leisure,  and  by  the 
tinio  vou   have   trulv   repented   the   book    will   have 
iiKirasod  sufficic  ;•'  '  in  value  to  give  you  full  absolu- 
tion.'    The  tini.e  will  come,   indeed,  when   men   will 
•-•tiso  their  efforts  to  measure  the  value  of  knowledue 


If 
1^ 


'V! 


210 


TlIK   LIBRARY. 


by  money.  Any  person  or  any  people  have  tlie 
I'iglit  to  ask,  not,  How  nuu'h  gold  is  a  barrel  of 
knowledge  worth  i  but,  Can  wo  afford  to  be  intelli- 
gent or  learned,  or  must  we  by  reason  of  our  poverty 
forever  remain  in  ignoranee?  Let  all  wlio  love 
knowledge,  and  deliglit  in  tlie  intelligenee  and  pro- 
gress of  the  race,  gather  while  they  may. 

Thus  in  these  various  forms  and  attitudes  the  mag- 
nitude and  in)[)ortanee  of  my  work  kept  con)ing  up 
and  urging  me  on.  This  western  coast,  it  seemed  to 
me  as  1  came  to  know  and  k)ve  it,  is  the  best  ])art  of 
the  United  States,  a  nation  occupying  the  best  jiart 
of  tlie  two  Americas,  and  raiiidlv  becoming  the  most 
intellectual  and  powerful  in  the  world.  Its  early  his- 
tory and  all  the  data  connected  with  it  whieh  can  be 
gathered  is  of  corresponding  im[)ortance. 

Nor  is  this  view  so  extravagant  as  to  some  it  may 
ajjpear.      Already  New  England   is  physically  en   the 
decline,  while  there  is  surely  as  much    mental    vij^or 
west  as  east.      Along  the  Atlantic;  seaboard  are  tlu.u- 
sands  of  farms  whicli  will   not  sell    Ibr  what   the   im- 
])rovements   cost,  while  the   extremes   of  climate  aie 
killing  and   drivinir    awav.      Woik   has   scarci'ly   vtt 
begun    on   the   J?aei[ic  seaboard,    where   a;e    millicns 
of  unoccupied  acres,  ten  of  which  with    proper  culti- 
vation will  sup[)ort  a  family  in   comfort.      The   com- 
monwealths of  the   New  World   are   becoming  more 
and  more  uniteel  under  the   beneficent    influences  of 
peace   and    jirogress;    and    the    ]\lonroe    doctrine,  at 
first  negat've  I'ather  than   positive   in    its   asseitions, 
is  pointinsjf  the  way  toward  world-wide  domination  liv 
American    brotherhood.      The  greatest   of    re[iubli(s. 
surrounded  and  sustained  in  all  that  is  elevatin<>-  and 
progressive  by  lesser  free  governments,  enters   upon 
its  second  centuiy  of  national    existence    under   cir- 
cumstances more  favorabh'  than  has  ever  before  Ik  (  n 
voui.'hsafed  to  man.     The  integrity  of  the  union  li.is 
been   tried  and  preserved;    the  stain  of  slaveiy  has 


t; 


INTELLECTUAL  STRENGTH. 


217 


been  eradicated ;  and  while  there  is  yet  enough  of 
cniruption  and  Hcentiou.sness,  political  and  sorial, 
tliLic  is  more  than  enouiih  of  ijood  to  counterhal- 
ar.ce  the  evil.      In  moral  health  and  intellectual   fiee- 


tloni  wc  are   secon 


d  to 


none, 


and 


S( 


)  ra[>idJy   is   our 


Avcalth  increasing  that  England  will  soon  be  left 
iK'hind  in  the  race  for  riches.  Give  to  tlu'  United 
^^tates  one  half  of  the  five  centuries  Home  iiave  her- 
s(  If  in  which  to  become  established  in  that  inherent 
sticiigth  which  made  her  mistress  of  the  world,  and 
tlie  great  American  republic  cannot  be  otherwise  if 
she  would  than  the  most  powerful  nation  on  earth. 
And  when  that  time  comes,  California  and  the  com- 
niiiiwealths  around,  and  up  and  down  this  J*acific 
seal  >a;d,  will  be  a  seat  of  culture  and  ])o\ver  to 
\Mc'  ■<  '  roads  shall  lead.  So  I  oive  mvself  no  con- 
<  .1  ;i  -  to  the  insportance  or  ultimate  appreciation  of 
!  iv  iVork,  however  hund)l(!  or  imijcrfect  mav  be  the 
iii>tiuiuent  of  it.s  accom[>lishment.  And  of  the  two 
s  ('tictns,  the  h'^torieul  narrative  proper  and  the  bio- 
UiMpliical  section,   tlie  latter  I   should  say  has  even 


imu'e   () 


f  the  inva 


luabli 


)ra( 


tical 


exi)eriences  o 


f  tl 


le 


lildeis   of  these   commonwealths,   wliich    otheiwise 
Id  have  iiassed  out  of  existence,  than  the  former. 


WiUll 


The  biographies  and  characterizations  of  the  eminent 
sonages  who  during  the    first   fitly  years   of   the 


ih'i 


xistence    uf    t!ie    Pacific    commonwealths    laid    tlu 
luiidatiens  of'  iHjUre,  and  built  upon  them  with  such 

ur- 


iiiar\i 


inni( 


•lh>us  I'M;  'idit\\  skill,  and  inti'lligeiice,  and   s 
led 


<>•{'  in  a  framework  of  the  material 
iiich  cvolveil  their  magnificent  des- 

linv',  contain    »-i^^.    n-  .gazines  of  valuable  knowledge 

..1 


AS  ti. 


( I'lidit i(ins  v>ut  ( 


iims 


t  altooethcr  iiijw  and  iKjwliere  else  existin'. 


VI 


'•I    ! 


ill 


CHAPTER  IX. 

DESPERATE  ATTEMPTS  AT  GREAT  THINGS. 

Some  have  been  scene  to  bite  their  pen,  scratch  their  head,  bend  their 
browcif,  bite  their  lips,  beat  the  boord,  teare  their  paper,  when  they  were 
faire  for  somewhat,  and  caught  notuing  therein. 

Camden. 

Heaps  and  heaps  of  ai;  ds  and — sawdust !  Good 
gold  and  genuine  silver,  pu.  Is  and  oyster-shells,  cop- 
per and  iron  mixed  with  refuse  and  debris — such  was 
the  nature  and  condition  of  my  collection  in  18G9, 
before  any  considerable  labor  had  been  bestowed  upon 
it.  Surrounded  by  these  accumulations,  I  sat  in  an 
embarrassment  of  wealth.  Chafl' and  wheat;  wheat, 
straw,  and  dirt;  where  was  the  brain  or  the  score 
of  brains  to  do  this  winnowing? 

What  winnowing?  I  never  promised  myself  or 
any  one  to  do  more  than  to  gather;  never  promised 
even  that,  and  probably,  had  I  known  in  the  bep-in- 
ning  what  was  before  me,  I  never  should  have  unacr- 
taken  it.  Was  it  not  enough  to  mine  for  the  precious 
metal  without  having  to  attempt  the  more  delicate 
and  difficult  task  of  melting  down  the  mass  and  re- 
fining it,  when  I  knew  nothing  of  such  chemistry? 
But  I  could  at  least  arrange  my  accumulations  in 
some  kind  of  order,  and  even  dignify  them  by  the 
name  of  library. 

Luring  my  last  visit  abroad  Mr  Knight  had  been 
clipping  in  a  desultory  manner  from  Pacilic  coast 
journals,  and  classifying  the  results  under  numerous 
headings  in  scrap-books  and  boxes;  and  I  had  also  at 
that  time  an  arrans^ement  with  the  literarv  editor  uf 


'if,. 


OAK  AXD  THE  OCCIDENT. 


219 


the  New  York  Evening  Post,  whereby  he  'clipped 
from  European  and  American  journals,  and  for- 
warded to  San  Francisco,  monthly,  such  articles  of 
value  touching  this  territory  as  fell  under  his  eye. 
By  this  means  much  pertinent  matter  was  saved 
which  I  should  never  otherwise  have  seen.  These 
clippings  were  all  arranged,  as  nearly  as  possible, 
under  such  several  divisions  as  sujxijested  themselves. 

While  these  persons  were  thus  engaged,  which  was 
for  little  less  than  a  year,  there  came  to  the  establish- 
ment of  H.  H.  Bancroft  and  Company  a  young  man, 
a  native  of  New  England,  Henry  L.  Oak  by  name, 
reconnnended  by  Mr  S.  F.  Barstow  for  the  position 
of  office-editor  of  a  religiou  -  iournal  called  The  Oeci- 
dent,  which  the  firm  was  then  publishing  for  a  religious 
association. 

Knight  was  then  manager  of  the  publishing  dcpart- 
mont,  and  to  him  Mr  Oak  was  introduced.  I  had  not 
yet  returned  from  the  east,  where  I  remained  some 
time  on  my  way  back  from  Europe.  After  talking 
the  matter  over  w4th  the  persons  interested,  Mr  Oak 
was  finally  installed  in  the  position.  His  predecessor 
remained  a  few  weeks  instructing  him  in  his  duties, 
and  he  had  no  difficulty  in  filling  the  position  to  the 
satisfaction  of  all  concerned.  These  duties  consisted 
at  first  in  writing  the  news  items  and  minor  editorial 
notes,  making  selections  from  printed  matter,  readmg 
])io()f,  folding  and  mailing  papers, keeping  the  accounts, 
corresponding  with  contributors  and  subscribers,  and 
collecting  bills.  Gradually  the  whole  burden  of  edit- 
ing' the  journal  fell  on  him.  The  persons  interested 
I'ailiiigto  carry  out  their  agreement,  the  firm  declined 
the  I'urther  publication  of  the  journal,  and  the  young 
editor  was  thrown  out  of  employment.  Thus  tlie 
matter  stood  on  my  return  from  the  east,  and  then 
my  attention  was  first  directed  to  Mr  Oak. 


^Meanwhile  I  had  ensxaofed  as  assistant,  and  finally 
successor,  to  INIr  Knight,  an  Englishman  of  erratic 


»il 


SI  ! 


IJ  '! 


!■"■ 


220 


DESPERATE  ATTEMPTS  AT  GREAT  THIXGS. 


mind  and  manner,  who  called  liimself  Bosquetti.  lie 
Avas  remarkably  quick  and  clear-headed  in  some  direc- 
tions, and  a  good  talker  on  almost  any  subject.  Large 
additions  had  lately  been  made  to  the  library;  there 
Avere  some  wagon  loads  of  old  musty  books,  appar- 
ently unfit  for  anything,  which  had  been  thrust  pro- 
miscuously as  received  into  laru^e  bins  in  one  corner 
of  the  second  floor  wareroom  of  the  Merchant-street 
building,  before  mentioned. 

Bosquetti  was  directed  to  arrange  and  catalogue 
these  lots.  He  had  some  knowledge  of  books  and 
even  of  cataloo-uinfj,  but  his  mind  was  not  remark- 
able  for  breadth  or  depth;  the  capability  to  produce 
fmishcd  results  was  wanting.  He  had  been  thus  oc- 
cupied about  a  month  when  I  engaged  Mr  Oak  to 
assist  him.  Oak  knew  little  of  books  except  such 
as  he  had  studied  at  college,  and  professed  to  know- 
nothing  of  cataloguing;  but  he  possessed  to  an 
eminent  degree  tliat  rarest  of  qualities,  common- 
sense.  Within  a  few  Avecks  he  had  familiarized  him- 
self with  the  best  S3"stcms,  impi'oving  on  them  all  in 
man}^  respects,  or  at  least  he  had  taken  from  them 
such  parts  as  best  befitted  his  work  and  had  applied 
them  to  it.  Thick  medium  writing  paper  was  cut  to 
a  uniform  size,  three  and  a  half  by  five  inches,  antl 
the  full  titles  were  written  thereon;  these  Avere  then 
abridged  on  smaller  cards,  two  and  a  half  by  four 
inches,  and  finally  copied  alphabetically  in  a  blank 
book  made  for  that  purpose.  The  United  States 
government  documents  were  examined,  a  list  of 
volumes  needed  to  fill  sets  was  made  out,  and  the 
contents  of  those  at  hand  determined.  A  copy  was 
likewise  made  of  the  catalogue  of  the  San  Diei^o 
archives,  kindly  furnished  by  Judge  Hayes,  whicli 
subsequently  fell  to  me  as  part  of  the  collection 
l)urchased  from  him.  Shortly  afterward  Bosquetti 
decamped,  leaving  Oak  alone  in  his  work,  which  lie 
pursued  untiringly  for  over  a  year.  Indeed,  he  ma}' 
be  said  to  have  done  the  whole  of  the  cataloouing 


ADVENTURES  OF  BOSQUETTI. 


221 


liimself,  for  what  his  coadjutor  had  written  was  of 
little  practical  benefit. 

The  flight  of  Bosquctti  was  in  this  wise :  First  I 
sent  him  to  Sacramento  to  make  a  list  of  such  books 
on  California  as  were  in  the  state  library.  This  he 
accomplished  to  my  satisfaction.  On  his  return, 
liavini;  heard  of  some  valuable  material  at  Santa  Clara 
college,  I  sent  him  down  to  copy  it.  A  month  pfussed, 
(hiring  M'hich  time  he  wrote  me  regularly,  reporiiiig 
his  doings,  what  the  material  consisted  of,  what  the 
jiriosts  said  to  him,  and  how  he  was  progressing  in 
liis  labors.  He  drew  his  pay  religiously,  the  money 
both  for  salary  and  expenses  being  promptly  sent 
him.  It  did  not  occur  to  mo  that  there  was  anything 
wrong.  He  had  been  with  mo  now  for  several 
montlis  and  I  had  never  had  cause  to  distrust  him, 
until  one  day  the  proprietor  of  the  hotel  at  which  ho 
lodged  wrote  me,  saying  that  he  understood  the  gen- 
tleman to  be  in  my  service,  and  ho  thought  it  but 
liglit  to  inform  me  that  since  he  came  to  his  house 
lie  had  been  most  of  the  time  in  a  state  of  beastly 
intoxication  and  had  not  done  a  particle  of  work. 
When  his  bottle  became  low  he  would  sober  up  enough 
to  make  a  visit  to  the  college,  write  mo  a  letter, 
rocoive  his  pay,  and  buy  ^iore  liquor. 

In  some  way  Bosquctti  learned  that  I  had  been 
informed  of  his  conduct,  and  not  choosing  to  wait  for 
my  benediction,  he  wrote  me  a  penitent  letter  and 
turned  his  face  southward,  seemingly  desirous  above 
all  to  widen  the  distance  between  us.  I  was  satisfied 
to  1)0  rid  of  him  at  the  cost  of  a  few  hundred  dollars. 

Oak  was  thus  left  in  sole  charge  of  the  literary 
aocunmlations,  of  which  he  was  duly  installed  libra- 
rian. When  the  card  copying  was  nearly  comph^ted 
thn  books  were  alphabetically  arranged,  tied  up  in 
pa<']{agcs,  and  placed  in  one  hundred  and  twenty-one 
lai'^o  cases,  in  which  shape,  in  May,  1870,  they  were 
transferred  to  the  fifth  floor  of  the  new  and  yet  un- 
linished  building  on  Market  street.     After  supcrin- 


rn 


222 


DESPERATE  ATTEMPTS  AT  GREAT  THINGS, 


'IM 


tending  their  removal  tlie  librarian  daily  climbed  a 
scries  of  ladders  to  one  of  the  side  rooms  of  the  new 
lil)rary,  where  a  floor  had  been  laid  and  a  table  placed. 
There  ho  continued  copying  into  a  book  the  contents 
of  the  small  cards  previously  prepared,  and  thus  made 
the  first  manuscrijit  catalogue  of  the  library,  which 
was  in  daSy  use  for  a  period  of  twelve  years.  He 
was  assisted  a  portion  of  the  time  by  a  cousin  of  mine, 
son  of  my  most  esteemed  friend  and  uncle,  W.  W.  Ban- 
croft, of  Granville.  Shelving  was  then  constructed ; 
the  cases  were  opened,  and  the  books  placed  alpha- 
betically upon  the  shelves.  During  this  time  I  made 
some  passes  at  literature,  writing  for  the  most  part 
at  my  residence.  Shortly  after  we  had  fairly  moved 
into  the  Market-street  building,  the  full  effects  of  the 
bui^iness  depression  before  mentioned  were  upon  us. 
The  business  outlook  was  not  flattering,  but  never- 
tlieless  we  pressed  forward,  well  knowing  that  to 
falter  was  perdition. 

During:  the  autumn  of  1870  Mr  Oak  continued 
his  labors  on  the  fifth  floor,  cataloguing  new  lots  of 
books  as  they  came  in,  arranging  maps,  briefs,  and 
newspapers,  copying  and  clipping  bibliographical  notes 
from  catalogues,  and  taking  care  of  the  books  and 
room.  It  was  still  my  intention  in  due  time  to 
issue  a  bibliography  of  the  Pacific  coast,  which 
should  include  all  of  my  own  collection  and  as 
many  more  titles  as  I  could  find.  Before  the  end  of 
the  year  there  was  quite  a  pile  of  my  own  manu- 
script on  my  table,  and  in  the  drawers,  monographs, 
mostly,  on  subjects  and  incidents  connected  with  the 
Pacific  coast.  All  my  thoughts  were  on  history,  and 
topics  kindred  thereto,  Pacific  States  history,  and  the 
many  quaint  and  curious  things  and  remarkable  and 
thrilling  events  connected  therewith.  I  was  passion- 
ately fond  of  writing;  I  would  take  up  a  subject 
here  or  an  episode  there  and  write  it  up  for  the  pure 
pleasure  it  gave  me,  and  every  day  I  found  myself 


WRITING  AT  RANDOM. 


able  with  greater  ease  and  facility  to  discharge  my 
thoughts  on  paper.  But  even  yet  I  had  no  well 
defined  intentions  of  writing  a  book  for  publication. 
The  responsibility  was  greater  than  I  cared  to  assume. 
I  had  seen  in  my  business  so  many  futile  attempts  in 
that  direction,  so  many  failures,  that  I  had  no  desire 
to  add  mine  to  the  number. 

While  I  was  wavering  upon  this  border  land  of 
doubt  and  hesitancy  in  regard  to  a  yet  more  direct 
and  deeper  plunge  into  the  dark  and  dangerous 
wilderness  of  eruchtion  before  n)e,  Mr  Oak  concluded 
to  visit  his  old  home  and  pass  the  winter  with  his 
friends  at  the  east. 

I  continued  writing,  though  in  a  somewhat  desul- 
tory manner;  the  idea  of  anything  more  systematic  at 
this  time  was  somewhat  repugnant  to  me.  As  yet  my 
feebly  kindled  enthusiasm  refused  to  burn  brightly. 
I  longed  to  do  something,  I  did  not  know  what;  I 
longed  to  do  great  things,  I  did  not  know  how;  I 
longed  to  say  something,  I  had  nothing  to  say.  And 
yet  I  would  write  as  if  my  life  depended  on  it,  and 
if  ever  a  bright  thought  or  happy  expression  foil  from 
my  pen  my  breast  would  swell  with  as  much  jileasure 
as  if  I  saw  it  written  in  the  heavens,  though  the  next 
moment  I  consigned  it  to  a  dungeon  there  to  remain 
perhaps  forever.  Much  of  what  I  last  published  was 
thus  first  written.  The  difficulty,  so  far  as  more  sys- 
tematic effort  was  concerned,  was  to  flee  the  incubi 
of  care,  and  of  pecuniary  responsibility  that  leech-like 
had  fastened  themselves  upon  me  these  twenty  years, 
and  now  threatened  destruction  to  any  plans  I  might 
make.  For  weeks  at  a  time  I  would  studiously  avoid 
tlic  library,  like  a  jilted  lover  hating  the  habitation 
of  his  mistress ;  and  the  more  I  kept  away  the  more 
the  place  became  distasteful  to  me.  Then  I  would 
arouse  myself,  resolve  and  re -resolve,  dissipate  de- 
pressing doubts,  shut  my  eyes  to  former  slights,  and 
turn  to  the  dwelling  of  my  love. 

Long  before  I  had  a  thought  of  writing  anything 


224 


DESPERATE  ATTEMPTS  AT  GREAT  THINGS. 


myself  for  publication,  the  plan  of  an  cncyclopredia 
of  the  Pacific  States  had  boon  proposed  to  me  by 
several  gentlemen  of  California,  who  liad  felt  the 
need  of  such  a  work.  The  idea  presented  itself  thus: 
My  collection,  they  said,  was  composed  of  every  species 
of  matter  relating  to  the  coast — physical  geography, 
geology,  botany,  ethnology,  history,  biography,  and  so 
on  through  the  wliole  range  of  know]ed<j:e.  Was  it 
not  desirable  to  give  to  the  world  the  fruits  of  such  a 
field  in  the  most  compact  shape,  and  was  not  an  en- 
cyclopa)clia  the  natural,  and  indeed  the  only  feasible 
form? 

I  did  not  at  all  fancy  the  task  which  they  would 
thus  lay  upon  me.  It  was  not  to  my  taste  to  manipu- 
late kno^vledge  merely.  To  write  and  publish  a 
treatise  on  every  subject  embraced  within  the  cate- 
gories of  general  knowledge  would  be  a  task  almost 
as  impracticable  as  to  reproduce  and  offer  to  the  world 
the  books  of  the  library  in  print.  Yet  it  was  true 
that  an  encyclopaedia  of  knowledge  relating  wholly  t(^ 
the  territory  covered  by  the  collection,  which  should 
supplement  rather  than  supersede  eastern  and  Euro- 
pean encyclopaedias,  would  certainly  bo  desirable.  The 
volumes  should  be  rather  small,  and  the  articles  which 
treated  purely  of  Pacific  coast  matters  longer  than 
those  contained  In  other  encyclopaedias.  Some  sul)- 
jects  miglit  occupy  a  whole  volume — as,  for  example, 
bibliography,  mines  and  mining,  physical  geograpliy, 
ethnology — and  might  be  published  separately,  if 
necessary,  as  well  as  In  the  scries.  The  matter  wa:> 
discussed,  with  rising  or  falling  enthusiasm,  for  some 
time. 

Mr  Oak  departed  for  the  east  in  December,  returned 
the  28th  of  April,  and  on  the  1st  of  May,  1871,  re- 
sumed his  duties  as  librarian.  Ten  days  were  spent 
by  him  In  attending  to  the  preparation  of  two  guide- 
books for  tourists,  the  publication  of  which  I  had 
undertaken,  and  In  discussing  the  scheme  of  an  en- 
cyclopaedia, which  I  finally  consented  to  superintend. 


LITERARY  SCHEMES. 


223 


7  tlion  l)cgjm  to  look  about  for  contributors.  It  was 
(K'sirablo  at  once  to  ch'aw  out  as  much  as  possil)lo  of 
talent  latent  on  thi.s  coast,  and  at  the  same  time  to 
secure  the  l)cst  writers  for  the  work.  Circulars  were 
acooi'dini^ly  issued,  not  only  to  men  eminent  in  litera- 
tun^  and  the  professions,  but  to  pioneers,  and  to  all 
likely  to  possess  information,  stating  the  purpose  and 
requesting  cotiperation.  To  several  of  the  judges, 
lawyers,  physicians,  clergymen,  and  others  in  San 
1 'I'aiicisco  of  known  literary  tastes  and  talents,  I  made 
personal  appeals,  and  received  flattv^ring  assurances. 

I  appointed  an  agent  in  New  York,  ^Ir  Henry  P. 
.lohnston,  then  on  the  editorial  staif  of  the  Sioi 
newspaper,  to  call  on  Californians  and  others  capable 
and  willing  to  write,  and  engage  their  contributions. 
Mv  Coleman  promised  to  dictate  to  a  stenographer 
an  account  of  the  San  Francisco  Vigilance  Committee, 
and  ]\[r  Simonton  ao^reed  to  contribute  an  article  on 
journalism  provided  I  would  furnish  the  data.  ]\fr 
Kenible,  Professor  Wood,  Dr  Scott,  Mr  liaymond, 
Mr  Squier,  and  many  others,  placed  themselves  freely 
at  my  service. 

i\[r  John  S.  Hittell  took  a  lively  interest  in  the 
scheme,  carefully  preparing  a  list  of  the  principal  sub- 
jects which  according  to  his  idea  should  be  treated, 
and  tlie  space  to  be  given  to  each.  A  prospectus 
was  printed,  and  letters  sent  out  inviting  coopera- 
tion. Manv  promised  to  contribute,  among  them. 
Isaac  Bird,'C.  H.  Eberle,  W.  W.  Chijmian,  A.  N. 
l''islicr  of  Nevada,  Matthew  P.  Deady  of  Oregon,  M. 
Ijaeohtel,  Archbishop  Alemany,  John  W.  Dwindle, 
Charles  H.  Sawyer,  James  De  Fremcry,  John  B. 
1  larinon,  J.  G.  Icazbalceta  of  Mexico,  J.  J.  Warner,  R. 
C.  ( Jrcene  of  Washington,  K.  McCormick  of  Arizona, 
L.  F.  Grover  of  Oregon,  E.  S.  Holden,  J.  B.  Lamar,  J. 
F.  Lewis,  T.  M.  Logan,  O.  C.  Marsh  of  Yale  College, 
L.  r>.  jNIizner,  A.  R.  SafFord  of  Arizona,  A.  F.  White, 
Oii'den  Iloft'man,  Wm.  Ingraham  Kip,  John  B.  Felton, 
I  la  11   ^IcAllister,    Horatio    Stebbins,    Frank    Soule. 

Lit.  Ind.    15 


nt 


I 


i 


■r  ■' 

M   1 


:f 


220 


DESrERATE  ATTIIMTTS  AT  GREAT  TITIXCS. 


John  T.  Doyle.  TIcMiry  IT.  TIai-lit,  W.  Looiuis,  Win. 
!M.  (iNvin,  David  I ).  Colton,  iImiiios  S.  ]»ush,  ^ruuricc  (\ 
Bluk(%  Fivd  W.  liorini^r  <»('  nosioii,  Nutlianicl  Ju'imctt, 
Ilciirv  C'ox,  Jainos  '^r.  (iardiuT,  Jolin  K.  Juilxx-, 
]Chvoo(l  Evans,  G.  A.  Sliurtlcft',  John  Ji.  Fri.sl)ic;,  Jolin 
!M('lIonry,  James  Blake,  II.  11.  Toland,  John  (J. 
!ArcCulloujjfh,  Andrew  \j.  Stone,  Al})honse  L.  PinaiT. 
M.  do  G.  V^allejo,  ^[orris  M.  Estee,  James  T.  I^oyd, 
Charles  N.  Fox,  Albert  Hart,  and  a  hundred  moi-c. 
Many  other  projected  works  have  at  various  times 
connnanded  my  attention,  and  to  execute  them  would 
have  given  me  great  pleasure,  but  I  was  ohligi-d 
to  forego  tlic  achievement,  a  thousand  years  of  life 
not  having  been  allotted  me.  Among  them  Avei'e 
A  History  of  Ciold;  Physical  Features  of  the  Pacitic 
States;  a  volume  on  Interoceaiiic  Comnumication ; 
one  on  Pacific  Railways;  a  series  of  volumes  of  con 
deiised  Voyages  and  Travels;  a  Geograjihy  in  small 
8vo;  also  a  similar  volume  on  Ethnology,  and  one  on 
History,  all  of  a  popular  nature  embodying  certain 
i<leas  which  I  have  never  seen  worked  out.  On  this 
last  meitioned  project,  and  indeed  on  some  of  l!ir 
otluTs,  considerable  work  was  done.  I  have  likewisi 
intended  to  print  fifty  or  one  hundred  of  the  most, 
valuable  of  my  manuscripts  as  material  for  Pacilic 
States  history.  Whoever  has  lived,  laboring  untk-r 
the  terrible  pressure  of  the  cacocthes  scribendi,  witli- 
out  promising  himself  to  write  a  dozen  books  lur 
every  one  accomplished! 

For  the  first  time  in  my  life  health  now  began  io 
fail.  The  increasing  demands  of  the  vast  mercantile 
and  manufacturing  structure  which  I  had  reared  drew 
heavily  upon  my  nervous  system.  I  grew  irritable, 
was  at  times  despondent,  and  occasionally  desperately 
indifferent.  I  determined  on  a  chancfe  of  sc(iie. 
Accordingly  the  1 0th  of  May  I  started  for  the  pur- 
pose of  recreation  and  recuperation  on  a  visit  to  the 
east,   sto})ping   at   Salt   Lake  City  for    the   ])ur)t(ise 


AT  THE  EAST. 


227 


of  enlisting  the  Mormons  in  my  behalf.  President 
Yonii'jf  and  the  leadinff  elders  entered  heai'iilv  into 
my  project,  an<l  a  scheme  was  devisi'd  for  obtaining 
infoi-mation  from  every  part  of  Utah.  A  sche(hile 
of  the  material  n^qnired  was  to  1)0  forwarded  tlirough 
the  channels  of  the  government,  with  such  instrnc- 
fions  from  the  chief  authorities  as  M'onld  conimantl 
I  ho  immediate  and  careful  attention  of  their  subor- 
dinates throughout  the  territory.  With  the  intention 
of  calling  on  my  return  and  then  to  carry  out  the 
]>l;in  I  continued  my  journey.  Then  I  fell  into 
despondency.  The  state  of  my  m^rves,  and  the  un- 
ci i-tainty  of  my  tinancial  futui'c,  had  so  dissij)ated 
iinibition  that  much  of  the  time  I  found  myself  in 
a  mood  fitter  for  mahinix  mv  exit  from  the  world 
ihan  for  be<xinnin<]f  a  new  life  in  it. 

At  this  time  the  chances  that  any  important  results 
wouUl  ever  emanate  from  the  library  tlirough  my  in- 
tervention were  very  slight.  Gradually  T  abandoned 
ill!'  idea  of  having  anything  to  do  witli  an  cncydo- 
]);edia.  ]My  energies  were  sapped.  ]My  grip  on  destiny 
Mci'nicd  relaxing.  I  had  helmed  the  ship  of  l)usiness 
until  exhausted,  and  the  storm  continuing,  I  left  it 
to  others,  little  caring,  so  far  as  I  was  jK-rsonally 
concerned,  whether  it  weatlu^red  the  gale  or  not. 
There  was  too  much  of  a  lengtliening  out  of  the 
a'^oiiy;  if  I  was  to  be  hanged,  let  mc  be  hanged  and 
have  tlono  with  it.  Such  was  my  humor  during  the 
summer  of  1871,  as  I  lounged  about  among  my  friends 
at  the  east,  listless  and  purposeless. 

I'rom  this  lethargy  I  was  awakened  by  the  acci- 
dental remark  of  a  lady,  at  whose  house  I  was  visit- 
ing with  my  daughter.  She  was  an  earnest,  practical 
Woman,  cool  and  calculating ;  one  whose  friendship 
liad  been  of  long  duration,  and  whose  counsel  now  was 
as  wise  as  it  was  beneficent.  Conscious  of  sujUM-ior 
intellect,  vain  of  her  wealth  and  her  influence,  her 
strong  character  had  nnich  in  it  to  admire  in  its  energy 
and  decision,  though  often  wraped  by  egotism  and  jeal- 


228 


DESPERATE  ATTEMPT  AT  GREAT  THINGS. 


ousy.  Clearly  comprohcnding  the  situation,  slie  saw 
that  for  me  activity  was  life,  passivity  death,  and 
her  mind  seemed  to  dwell  on  it.  One  day  she  said 
to  me,  "The  next  ten  years  will  be  the  best  of  your 
life;  what  are  you  going  to  do  wath  them?"  A  lead- 
ing question,  truly,  and  one  I  had  often  asked  myself 
of  late  without  ability  to  answer;  yet  her  womanly 
way  of  putting  these  few  simple  words  brought  them 
home  to  me  in  a  manner  I  had  never  before  felt.  I 
was  standing  by,  waiting  to  see  whether  I  might 
proceed  with  my  literary  undertaking  or  whether  I 
should  have  to  go  to  work  for  my  bread. 

Those  were  the  days  of  unattempted  achievements, 
of  great  things  unaccomplished.  Imaginary  sprout- 
ings  of  imaginary  seeds  sown  and  to  be  sown  were 
visible  to  the  mind's  eye  on  every  side,  embr3'o  vol- 
umes and  germs  of  great  works,  and  there  were  at 
hand  the  soil  and  fertilizers  ti  stimulate  development, 
but  as  yet  I  could  point  to  little  that  betokened  suc- 
cess. There  was  a  rich  field  of  honors  yet  to  be  sown 
and  reaped.  Huge  quantities  of  invaluable  material 
lay  strewn  on  every  side,  material  absolutely  valueless 
in  its  present  shape.  And  thus  was  I  held  in  a  sort  of 
limhiis  jycitrum,  half  way  between  earth  and  heaven. 

What  w^as  I  to  do?  I  did  not  know;  but  I  would 
do  something,  and  that  at  once.  I  would  mark  out  a 
path  and  follow  it,  and  if  in  the  mean  time  I  should 
be  overwhelmed,  let  it  be  so;  I  would  waste  no  more 
time  waiting.  Once  more  I  rubbed  my  lamp  and 
asked  the  genius  what  to  do.  In  due  time  the  answer 
came;  the  way  was  made  clear,  yet  not  all  at  onet'; 
still,  from  that  time  I  was  at  less  loss  as  to  what 
next  I  should  do,  and  how  I  should  proceed  to  do  it. 
From  that  day  to  this  I  have  known  less  w^averiuij:, 
less  hesitation.  I  would  strike  at  once  for  the  highest, 
brightest  mark  before  me.  I  would  make  an  effoit, 
whatever  the  result,  which  should  be  ennobling,  in 
which  even  failure  should  be  infinitely  better  than 
listless  inaction.    Exactly  what  I  would  undertake  I 


RETURN  TO  CALIFORNIA. 


229 


could  not  now  determine.  History-writing  I  con- 
ceived to  be  among  the  highest  of  human  occupa- 
tions, and  this  should  be  my  choice,  were  my  ability 
equal  to  my  ambition.  There  was  enough  with  which 
to  wrestle,  under  these  new  conditions,  to  strengthen 
nerve  and  sharpen  skill. 

Tlius  roused  I  went  back  to  California.  I  entered 
the  library.  Oak,  alone  and  rudderless  on  a  sudorific 
sea,  was  faithfully  at  work  cutting  up  duplicate  copies 
of  books  and  scvcralizing  the  parts  upon  the  previous 
])lan,  thus  adding  to  the  numerous  scraps  hitherto 
collected  and  arranged.  It  was  a  sorrowful  attempt 
at  great  things;  nevertheless  it  was  an  attempt.  To 
this  day  the  fruits  of  many  such  plantings  in  connec- 
tion with  these  Literary  Industries  remain  unplucked. 
Yet,  if  never  permitted  by  my  destiny  to  accomplish 
great  things,  I  could  at  least  die  attempting  them. 


CHAPTER  X. 


A    LITERARY    WORKSHOP. 


We  were  the  first  that  ever  burst 
Into  that  silcut  sea. 

Coleridije. 

It  was  the  20th  of  August,  1871,  that  I  returned 
from  my  eastern  trip,  being  summoned  to  the  sup- 
port of  a  greatly  imperiled  business.  My  friends 
had  become  fearful  for  the  safety  of  the  firm,  and 
had  telegrapliod  me  to  return.  Wicked  reports  of 
things  undreamed  of  by  ourselves  had  been  so  long 
and  so  persistently  circulated  by  certain  of  our  coni- 
l>etit6rs,  who  feared  and  hated  us,  that  the  confidence 
of  even  those  sk)W  to  behevo  ill  of  us  began  to  be 
shaken.  No  Achilles  was  near  to  smite  to  earth  tho.se 
sons  of  Thersites. 

The  fact  of  my  changing  the  name  of  the  firm,  tlio 
reason  for  which  I  had  some  dehcacy  about  loudly 
proclaiming,  was  perverted  by  our  enemies  into  a  fear 
as  to  the  ultimate  success  of  the  business,  and  a  deter- 
mination on  my  part  in  case  of  failure  not  to  be  brought 
down  with  it.  And  this,  notwithstanding  they  know, 
or  might  have  knowm,  that  I  never  shirked  any  part 
of  the  responsibility  coimected  with  the  change  of 
name,  and  that  every  dollar  1  had  was  pledged  for  the 
support  of  the  business.  To  their  great  disappoint- 
ment we  did  not  succumb;  we  did  not  ask  for  an  exten- 
sion, or  any  favors  from  any  one.  Nevertheless  my 
friends  desired  me  to  return,  and  I  came. 

But  I  was  in  a  bad  humor  for  business.  I  never 
thought  it  possible  so  to  hate  it,  and  all  the  belittlings 

(330) 


SWEEPING  OF  COBWEBS. 


231 


and  soul-crusliings  connected  with  it.  Even  the  faint 
iflinipse  of  the  Above  and  Beyond  in  my  fancies  had 
boon  sufficient  to  spoil  me  for  future  money  grubbiiigs. 
"Only  those  who  know  the  supremacy  of  the  intellect- 
ual life,"  says  George  Eliot,  "the  life  which  has  a  seed 
of  ennobling  thought  and  purpose  within  it,  can  un- 
derstand the  grief  of  one  who  falls  I'rom  that  serene 
aitivity  into  the  absorbing  soul-wasting  struggle  with 
worldly  annoyances."  Had  I  been  alone,  with  only 
myself  to  suffer,  and  had  not  even  my  literary  aspira- 
tions been  dependent  on  the  success  of  the  shop,  I 
would  have  turned  my  back  on  it  forever  to  let  it  sink 
or  swim,  as  it  pleased  or  was  able. 

This,  however,  was  not  to  be.  My  duty  was  too  plain 
before  me.  The  business  must  have  my  attention;  it 
must  have  more  money,  and  I  must  provide  it.  Into 
the  breach  I  threw  myself,  and  stood  there  as  well  as 
1  was  able,  though  at  such  a  cost  of  feeling  as  no  one 
ever  knew,  and  as  few  could  ever  appreciate.  Having 
(ione  this,  all  that  I  could  do,  and  in  fact  all  that  was 
necessary  to  save  the  business,  I  mentally  consigned 
the  whole  establishment  to  oblivion,  and  directed  my 
attention  once  more,  and  this  time  in  desperate  earnest, 
to  my  literary  infatuation. 

At  the  very  threshold  of  my  resolve,  however, 
stared  me  in  the  face  the  old  inquiry,  Wliat  shall  f 
do,  and  how  shall  I  do  it?  One  thing  was  pbuu,  even 
to  a  mind  as  unskilled  in  the  mysteries  of  book- 
Hinking  as  mine.  On  my  shelves  were  tons  of  un- 
winnowed  material  for  histories  unwritten  an<l  sciences 
iiii<leveloj)ed.  In  the  present  shape  it  was  of  little  use 
to  me  or  to  the  woi'ld.  Facts  were  too  scattered; 
indeed,  mingled  and  hidden  as  they  were  in  hugi; 
masses  of  debi'is,  the  more  one  had  of  them  the  woi'se 
one  was  off.  All  this  was  like  mixing  chlorine  and 
livthogen  in  the  dark:  so  loni;  as  the  mixture  is  kept 
ii'"iii  \\'A\i  the  inoredients  manifest  no  disposition  to 
unite,  but  once  let  sunshine  in  and  (piickly  they  ct)m- 
hiue  into  nmriatic  acid.     Thus,  not  until  the  rays  of 


1 


A  LITERARY  WORKSHOP. 

experience  illuminated  my  library  did  the  union  of 
my  efforts  and  material  fructify.  A  little  truth  in  such 
a  form  as  one  could  use,  a  quantity  such  as  one  could 
grasp,  was  better  than  uncontrollable  heaps.  Much 
knowledge  out  of  order  is  little  learning;  confusion 
follows  the  accumulation  in  excess  of  ungeneralized 
data. 

To  find  a  way  fo  the  gold  of  this  amalgam,  to 
mark  out  a  path  through  a  wilderness  of  knowledge 
to  the  desired  facts,  was  the  first  thing  to  be  done. 
He  who  would  write  at  the  greatest  advantage  on 
any  practical  subject  must  have  before  him  all  that 
has  been  written  by  others,  all  knowledge  extant  on 
that  subject.  To  have  that  knowledge  upon  his 
shelves,  and  yet  be  unable  to  place  his  hand  upon  it, 
is  no  better  than  to  bo  without  it.  If  I  wished  to 
write  fully  on  the  zoology,  for  example,  of  the  Pacific 
slope,  nine  tenths  of  all  the  books  in  my  library  con- 
taining reference  to  the  animals  of  the  coast  mijjht  as 
well  be  at  the  bottom  of  the  ocean  as  in  my  possession 
unless  I  was  prepared  to  spend  fifteen  years  on  this 
one  subject.  And  even  then  it  could  not  be  thoroughly 
done.  Fancy  an  author  with  thirty  or  fifty  thousand 
volumes  before  him  sitting  down  to  reid  or  look 
through  ten  thousand  of  them  for  every  treatise  or 
article  he  wrote!  De  Quincey  gives  a  close  reader 
from  five  to  eight  thousand  volumes  to  master  betwotii 
the  ages  of  twenty  and  eighty;  hence  a  man  beginning 
at  thirty-seven  with  twenty  thousand  volumes  soon 
increased  to  forty  thousand,  could  scarcely  hope  in  his 
lifetime  even  to  look  into  them  all. 

This  was  the  situation.  And  before  authorship  could 
begin  a  magic  wand  must  be  waved  over  the  assembled 
products  of  ten  thousand  minds,  which  would  several- 
ize  what  each  had  said  on  all  important  topics,  and 
reduce  the  otherwise  rebellious  mass  to  form  and  sys- 
tem. This,  after  the  collection  of  the  material,  was 
the  first  step  in  the  new  chemistry  of  literary  reduc- 
tion.   Here,  as  elsewhere  in  the  application  of  science. 


EXTRACTING  MATERIAL. 


233 


I  could 
rabK'd 
overal- 
ls, aii<l 
id  sys- 

III,  M'US 

rcduc- 
cieuoc, 


facts  must  be  first  collected,  then  classified,  after  which 
laws  and  general  knowledge  may  be  arrived  at. 

How  was  this  to  be  accomplished  ?  It  is  at  the  in- 
itial period  of  an  undertaking  that  the  chief  difficulty 
arises.  I  had  no  guide,  no  precedent  by  which  to  formu- 
late my  operations.  I  might  write  after  the  ordinary 
mt.'thod  of  authors,  but  in  this  field  comparatively 
little  could  come  of  it.  To  my  knowledge,  author- 
ship of  the  quality  to  which  I  aspired  had  never  be- 
fore been  attempted  by  a  private  individual.  A  mass 
of  material  like  mine  had  ne/er  before  been  collected, 
collocated,  eviscerated,  and  re-created  by  one  man,  un- 
assisted by  any  society  or  government.  The  great 
trouble  was  to  get  at  and  abstract  the  information. 
Toward  the  accomplishment  of  this  my  first  efforts 
were  crude,  as  may  well  be  imagined.  I  attempted  to 
read  or  cursorily  examine  such  volumes  as  were  likely 
to  contain  information  on  the  subjects  to  be  written, 
and  to  mark  the  passages  to  be  extracted.  A  system 
of  figures  was  adopted,  one  of  which,  pencilled  on  the 
margin  of  the  page,  denoted  the  subject-heading  under 
^\  liieh  the  extracted  page  or  paragraph  should  appear. 
I'liesc  passages  were  then  copied.  Of  course  it  would 
have  been  easier  to  purchase  two  copies  of  every  im- 
])ortant  book,  and  to  have  cut  them  up,  as  in  fact  was 
done  in  many  instances;  but  nine  tenths  of  the  library 
could  not  be  duplicated  at  any  cost,  and  to  destroy  a 
\nM)k  or  even  a  newspaper  of  which  I  could  not  buy 
another  copy  was  not  for  a  moment  to  be  thought  of. 

l>ut  what  was  one  man,  one  reader,  among  so  many 
th(Misand  authors  1  After  going  over  a  dozen  volumes 
or  so  in  this  manner,  and  estimating  the  time  required 
for  r(\iding  and  marking  all  the  books  of  the  library, 
1  found  that  by  constant  application,  eight  hours  a 
day,  it  would  take  four  hundred  years  to  go  through 
tlu'  l)ooks  of  the  library  in  a  superficial  way.  It 
Huist  be  borne  in  mind  that  these  books  had  been 
(dlli'cted  on  a  special  subject,  and  therefore  it  was 
necessary  to  examine  every  one  of  them.    I  concluded, 


234 


A  LITERARY  WORKSHOP. 


1^ 
'I 


therefore,  that  other  men  must  also  be  set  to  read, 
and  more  men  to  copy  literatim  all  information  likely 
to  be  required  in  the  study  of  any  subject.  Thus 
these  literary  industries  beuan  jj^radualiy  to  assume 
broader  i)roi)ortions,  and  so  they  continued  till  Decem- 
ber of  this  same  year. 

On  trial,  however,  the  plan  proved  a  failure.  The 
copied  material  relating  to  the  same  or  kindred  topics 
could  indeed  be  brought  together,  but  on  begin- 
ning to  write  I  found  the  extracts  unsatisfying,  and 
felt  the  necessity  of  the  book  itself.  The  copyist  may 
have  made  a  mistake;  and  to  appraise  the  passage  at 
its  full  value  I  must  see  the  connection.  Any  expe- 
rienced author  could  have  told  me  this;  but  there  was 
no  experienced  author  at  hand. 

After  some  twenty-iive  reams  of  legal  cap  paper 
had  thus  been  covered  on  one  side,  to  consign  thu 
labors  of  these  six  or  eight  men  for  these  several 
months  to  the  waste  heap  was  but  the  work  of  a  mo- 
ment. There  was  too  much  involved,  the  enterprise! 
was  projected  on  too  large  a  scale,  to  admit  of  a  wrong 
beginning;  and  prepared  as  I  was  to  stake  past,  present, 
and  future  on  this  literary  adventure,  it  appeared 
folly  to  continue  a  path  shown  to  bo  wrong.  La  Fon- 
taine's idea  was  not  a  bad  one:  "Le  trop  d'expediens 
pent  gater  une  affaire:  on  perd  du  temps  au  choix,  on 
tente;  on  veut  tout  faire.  N'en  ayons  qu'un;  mais 
qu'il  soit  bon." 

Meanwhile,  after  frequent  and  protracted  discus- 
sions, I  determined  to  have  tlie  whole  library  indexctl 
as  one  would  index  a  single  book.  This  surely  would 
bring  before  me  all  that  every  author  ha<l  said  on  any 
subject  al)out  which  I  should  choose  to  write.  This, 
too,  would  give  me  the  authors  themselves,  and  em- 
body most  of  the  advantaiifes  of  the  former  schenio 
without  its  faults.  In  pursuance  of  this  plan  Oalv 
took  up  the  voyage  collections  of  Hakluyt  and  Na- 
varrete,  while  less  important  works  were  distiibuted  to 


VOYAGES  AND  TRAVELS. 


235 


such  of  the  former  readers  and  copyists  as  were 
deemed  competent.  For  example,  one  Gordon  made 
an  index  of  California  legislative  documents.  Albert 
(jroldsclimidt's  first  work  was  to  make  an  index,  on  a 
somewhat  more  general  plan  than  that  of  Navarrete, 
of  the  Atlantic  Monthly,  and  other  magazines  and 
reviews.  He  afterward  catalogued  a  large  lot  of 
^Mexican  books.  To  Cresswell,  since  in  the  Nevada 
senate,  Pointdexter,  and  others,  was  given  less  im- 
portant work. 

Among  other  parts  of  the  outlined  encyclopsedia  was 
a  collection  of  voyages  and  travels  to  and  throughout 
the  Pacific  States.  As  the  more  comprehensive  pro- 
(^raunne  was  gradually  set  aside,  my  attention  became 
more  and  more  concentrated  on  these  several  parts. 
True,  history  was  ever  the  prominent  idea  in  my 
iiiiud,  but,  audacious  as  was  my  ambition,  I  had  not 
the  ]iresumption  to  rush  headlong  into  it  during  the 
incipient  stages  of  my  work.  At  the  beginning  of  my 
liturary  pilgrimage,  I  did  little  but  flounder  in  a  slough 
of  despond.  Until  my  feet  touched  more  solid  ground, 
1  (lid  not  dare  essay  that  which  appeared  to  me  no  less 
dillicult  than  grand. 

A  collection  of  voyages  and  travels  such  as  I  pro- 
jected offered  many  attractions  as  an  initial  step  in 
my  literary  undertakings.  Incident  and  instruction 
wcic  therein  so  combined  as  under  a  sparkling  pen 
to  awaken  and  retain  the  liveliest  interest.  Here  was 
less  risk  of  failure  than  in  more  ambitious  attempts; 
I  alone  possessed  the  material,  and  surely  I  could  serve 
it  in  a  style  not  wholly  devoid  of  attractions.  If  this 
weic  not  within  the  scope  of  my  accomplishment 
iiolJiiiig  was.  So,  during  the  first  half  of  1872,  in 
conjunction  with  the  indexing,  under  a  d(j\"ised  system 
of  c(jndensation,  several  persons  were  emjiloyed  in  ex- 
tracting Pacific  coast  voyages  and  travels.  Mr  Ora 
Oak,  a  younger  brother  of  the  librarian,  was  so 
employed  for  some  time,  displaying  marked  ability. 
^\  alter  M.  Fisher  wrote  out  the  travels  of  Bryant, 


236 


A  LITERARY  WORKSHOP. 


Bayard  Taylor,  Humboldt,  and  others.  This  work 
alto^fcther  lasted  about  a  year,  and  resulted  in — ■ 
nothing. 

Several  women  were  also  employed  upon  those 
voyages;  one,  a  pretty  widow  whose  name  I  have 
forgotten,  brought  her  luncheon  and  made  her  tea 
at  my  fire.  I  know  not  why  it  is,  but  almost  every 
attempt  to  employ  female  talent  in  conne€tion  with 
these  Industries  has  proved  a  signal  failure.  Many 
poor  and  needy  women,  all  educated,  and  some  i)f 
them  talented  and  highly  cultivated,  came  to  nio 
begging  employment.  They  had  done  great  things 
hitherto,  and  were  sure  they  could  do  this  so  simple 
work.  Indexing,  as  they  imagined,  was  nothing;  and 
as  for  travels,  Lad  they  not  been  up  and  down  the 
world  writing  for  this  weekly  or  the  other  monthly  :* 
I  know  of  no  object  on  earth  so  pitiable  as  an  in- 
competent, impecunious  woman,  has  bleu  or  brainless, 
obliged  to  earn  her  living  and  too  proud  to  work  with 
her  hands;  and  there  are  always  thousands  of  such 
in  California.  Sympathizing  with  their  forlorn  con- 
dition, I  have  often  given  them  work  when  I  knew 
they  could  not  do  it,  giving  the  time  of  a  valuable 
man  to  teach  them,  paying  perhaps  for  a  fortnight's 
anno3^ance,  and  then  throwing  the  results  of  her 
efforts  into  the  waste-basket. 

I  have  to-day  nothing  to  show  for  thousands  of 
dollars  paid  out  for  the  futile  attempts  of  female 
writers.  What  it  is  they  lack,  justly  attributable  to 
their  sex,  I  hardly  know.  That  a  woman  has  not  the 
mental  or  physical  force  and  endurance  of  a  man  iloes 
not  seem  a  sufficient  reason.  True,  in  literary  labors, 
strength  is  taxed  to  the  utmost.  I  have  tried  many 
occupations,  and  there  is  no  kind  of  work,  I  venture 
to  say,  so  wearing  as  literary  labor.  The  manage- 
ment of  a  large  commercial  establishment  is  play  be- 
side it.  A  mercantile  and  manufacturing  book  and 
stationery  business,  with  two  hundred  men  at  work  at 
fifty  different  things,  is  as  intricate  and  full  of  detail 


FEMALE  ASSISTANTS. 


237 


night's 


as  any  otlior  occupation;  and  yet  while  deep  in  literary 
lahors  I  have  voluntarily  assumed  the  solo  management 
of  the  business  which  I  had  built,  for  several  years  at 
u  tiinc,  finding  relief  and  recreation  in  it.  It  was  well 
systematized;  there  were  good  men  at  the  head  of 
every  part  of  it ;  and  for  me  to  manage  it  was  as  easy 
and  pleasurable  as  driving  a  well  trained  four-in-hand. 
An  enduring  attack  by  tlie  mind  on  the  tableful  of 
mind  spread  out  before  it;  a  grappling  of  intellects 
and  a  struggle,  if  not  for  preponderance  at  least  for 
identity,  for  life — this,  while  the  brain  saps  the 
essences  of  the  body  until  the  head  is  hot,  and  the 
feet  cold,  and  the  limbs  stiff,  this  is  the  work  of  men. 
Tt  is  not  the  play  at  work  of  women.  If  a  woman 
lias  genius,  that  is  another  thing.  But  even  then 
jj^enius  alone  is  of  little  avail  to  me.  My  work  de- 
mands drudgery  as  well.  If  she  have  genius,  let  her 
stay  at  home,  write  from  her  effervescent  brain,  and 
8t'll  the  product  to  the  highest  bidder. 

Hard  work,  the  hardest  of  work,  is  not  for  frail  and 
tender  woman.  It  were  a  sin  to  place  it  on  her.  Give 
her  a  home,  with  bread  and  babies;  love  her,  treat 
lior  kindly,  give  her  all  the  rights  she  desires,  even 
the  defiling  right  of  suffrage  if  she  can  enjoy  it,  and 
she  will  be  your  sweetest,  loveliest,  purest,  and  most 
devoted  companion  and  slave.  But  life-long  applica- 
tion, involving  life-long  self-denial,  involving  constant 
pressure  on  the  brain,  constant  tension  of  the  sinews, 
is  not  for  women,  but  for  male  philosophers  or — fools. 
So.  long  since,  I  forswore  petticoats  in  my  library; 
hreeches  are  sometimes  bad  enough,  but  when  unbe- 
fitting  they  are  disposed  of  somewhat  more  easily. 

Later  in  my  work,  and  as  an  (;xcc[)tion  to  the 
above,  I  am  glad  to  testify  to  the  ability  and  success 
of  one  female  writer,  if  for  no  other  reason  than  to  de- 
li\(i'  nie  from  the  charge  of  prejudice.  I  have  found 
in  Mrs  Frances  Fuller  Victor,  during  her  arduous 
Itiliors  for  a  period  of  ten  years  in  my  library,  a 
lady  of  cultivated  mind,  of  ability  and  singular  cp- 


288 


A   LITERARY   WORKSHIP. 


plication;  likewise  her  pliysical  endurance  was  ro- 
nmrkahle. 

Loiij^r  before  this  I  had  discovered  the  plan  of  the 
index  tlicn  in  progress  to  be  inipracticable.  It  was 
too  exact;  it  was  on  too  minute  a  scale.  Ki'sidcs 
absorbing  an  enormous  amount  of  time  and  money  in 
its  making,  when  comi)Ieted  it  would  be  so  volumi- 
nous and  extended  as  to  be  cumbersome,  and  too  un- 
wieldy for  the  purpose  designed. 

Others  realized  this  nioie  fully  than  myself,  and 
from  them  came  many  suggestion  in  perfecting  tlie 
present  and  more  practical  system.  This  is  a  modi- 
fication and  simplification  of  the  former,  a  reduetion 
to  practice  of  what  before  was  only  theory.  Three 
months  were  occupied  in  planning  and  testing  tliis 
new  system.  When  we  became  satisfied  with  th(^ 
results,  we  began  indexing  and  teaching  the  art 
to  the  men.  As  the  work  progressed  and  the  plan 
inspired  confidence,  more  indexers  were  emj)loy((l. 
Hundreds  were  instructed,  and  the  efficient  oiks 
retained.  Mr  William  Nemos  came  in,  and  as  he 
quickly  mastered  the  system  and  displayed  marked 
ability  in  various  directions,  the  indexing  and  the  in- 
dexers were  placed  under  his  supervision. 

The  system  as  perfected  and  ever  since  in  successful 
and  daily  operation,  I  will  now  describe: 

Forty  or  fifty  leading  subjects  were  selected,  sucli 
as  Agriculture,  Antiquities,  Botany,  Biography,  Com- 
merce, Drama,  Education,  Fisheries,  Geology,  His- 
tory, Indians,  Mining,  etc.,  which  would  embrace  all 
real  knowledge,  and  cover  the  contents  of  the  whole 
collection,  except  such  parts  as  were  irrelevant.  Vnr 
example,  a  writer's  ideas  of  religion  were  considered  of 
no  value,  as  was  anything  he  saw  or  did  outside  of  our 
Pacific  States  territory;  or  his  personal  affairs,  unless 
of  so  striking  a  character  as  to  command  general  in- 
terest. These  forty  or  fifty  subjects  formed  the  basis 
of  the  index,  embracing  the  whole  range  of  practical 
knowledge,  history,  biography,  and  science,  while  ex- 


INDEXIXCJ  THE  LIBRARY. 


239 


IS  re- 

)f  the 
[t  was 
li'sitK's 

IK'V  ill 

%' 

olumi- 

(K)   Ull- 

If,  and 
iig  the 
L  uiotli- 
luctioii 
Tln(;c 

ith  tlif 
ho  art 
10  ]»liin 
])h)yo(l. 

it     Ollt'S 

I  as  ho 
markod 
the  hi- 


3CCSS' 


ssful 


rhi(Hni^  tons  of  trash,  witli  which  every  author  seems 
hound  in  a  greater  or  loss  degree  to  (Ulute  his  writings. 

Now  as  to  the  collootion  of  minor  sulyects  or  sub- 
topics under  the  general  headings,  so  as  to  i)erniit  a 
roa<ly  use  of  the  material  with  the  least  possii)le  fric- 
iion.  The  device  is  at  once  ingenious,  simple,  and 
otlo(itual.  The  lists  of  subjects  were  so  chosen  that 
oacli  niiglit  be  made  to  embrace  a  variety  of  sub- 
divisions. Thus  under  the  head  Agriculture  are  in- 
olndod  stock  raising,  soils,  fruits,  and  all  other  products 
of  farm  cultivation.  Under  Antiquities  are  included 
ruins,  relics,  hieroglyphics,  and  all  implements  and 
other  works  of  native  Americans  prior  to  the  coming 
of  Europeans;  also  ancient  history,  traditions,  migra- 
tions, manners  and  customs  before  tlie  conquest,  and 
speculations,  native  and  European,  concerning  the 
origin  of  the  Americans.  The  same  system  w'as 
obsorvcd  with  Architecture,  Art,  Bibliography,  Biog- 
ra})hy,  Ethnology,  Jurisprudence,  Languages,  Manu- 
factures, Medicine,  Meteorology,  Mythology,  and  all 
tlio  other  chief  subject-headings,  including  states  and 
locahties.  A  list  of  abbreviations  was  then  made,  and 
tlio  ])lan  was  ready  for  application. 

Tlio  operation  of  indexing  was  as  follows:  A  list  of 
suhjocts,  wdth  their  subdivisions  and  abbreviations, 
was  placed  before  an  assistant,  who  proceeded  to  read 
t[ie  book  also  given  him,  indexing  its  contents  upon 
cards  of  heavy  writing  paper  three  by  five  inches  in 
size.  When  he  came  to  a  fact  bearing  on  any  of  the 
s^ulijocts  in  the  list  he  wrote  it  on  a  card,  each  assist- 
ant following  the  same  form,  so  as  to  produce  uniform 
results.  For  example,  the  top  line  of  all  the  cards  was 
written  in  this  manner: 


Agric.  Cal.,  Silk  Culture,  1867. 

Antiq.  Clii.apas,  Palenque. 

Biog.  CorWa  (H.) 

Hist.  Mexico.     1519. 

Ind.  Ncv.     Shoshones  (Dwellings). 

Ogn.  Portland.     1870. 


240 


A  LITERARY  WORKSHOP. 


The  second  line  of  each  card  gave  the  title  of  the 
book,  with  the  volume  and  inv^o  where  the  infortna- 
tiou  was  to  bo  found;  and,  finally,  a  few  words  were 
given  denoting  the  character  of  the  information.  Here- 
with I  give  a  .specimen  card  complete: 


Ind.    Tchuan.    Zapoteca.    1847. 

Macgrcgor,  J.    Progress  of  America.    Lontlon,  1847. 
Vol.  I.,  pp.  848-9. 

Location,  Character,  Dress,  Mannfacturea. 


Here  we  have  a  concise  index  to  a  particular  fact 
or  piece  of  information.  It  happens  to  relate  to  the 
aborigines,  and  so  falls  under  the  general  heading 
Indians.  It  has  reference  especially  to  tlie  natives  of 
Tehuantepec.  It  is  supposed  to  describe  them  as  they 
were  in  the  year  1847.  It  concerns  the  Zapotoc  tiihi' 
particularly.  It  has  to  do  with  their  location,  cluu- 
acter,  dress,  and  manufactures,  and  it  is  to  be  found 
on  pages  848  and  849  of  the  first  volume  of  a  book 
entitled  Progress  of  America,  written  by  J.  JMacgregor, 
and  published  in  London  in  1847.  Of  course,  wlien 
the  cards  are  put  away  in  their  cas?  all  the  cards  on 
Indians  are  brought  together.  Of  the  Indian  oai-ds 
all  those  relating  to  Tehuantepec  are  brought  togetlier. 
Of  the  Tehuantepec  natives  all  in  tlie  library  that 
relate  to  the  Zapotec  tribe  will  be  found  together; 
and  so  on. 

Thus  the  student  is  directed  at  once  to  all  the  sources 
of  information  concerning  his  subject,  and  the  ordt  rly 
treating  of  innumerable  topics,  otherwise  impossihle, 
is  thus  made  practicable.  If,  for  example,  a  person 
wishes  to  study  or  write  upon  the  manners  and  cus- 
toms of  all  the  aborigines  inhabiting  the  territory 
covered  by  the  library,  he  takes  all  the  cards  of  tho 
index   bearing  the  general  heading  Indians,  and  is  l^y 


RESULTS  FROM  THK  INDEX. 


241 


of  the 

ifonna- 

is  wvvc 

llcro- 


_J 

Lilar  fact 
,G  to  the 
hcadiiiL,' 
atives  ul" 
a  a«  they 
ptce  tribe 
on,  char- 
jc  fouuil 
■  a  bt>()k 
u'gre;j;<»i") 
sc,  when 
cards  on 
an  cai'cls 
oi^other. 
ary  that 
toiiether; 

lo  sources 
Ic  onltnly 
•ssible, 
la  person 
land  cus- 
Itorritory 
[h  of  tUo 
md  is  l»y 


them  directed  iuiuiediately  to  all  the  sources  of  infor- 
nuition,  which  else  would  taico  him  ten  years  at  loast 
to  ferret.  If  information  is  desired  of  Tehuantepoc, 
take  tlio  Tehuantcpec  cards;  or  if  of  the  Zapotee 
tribe  only,  the  Zapotoc  cards.  So  it  is  with  any  sub- 
ject i'elatin<;  to  mining,  hi^tory,  society,  or  any  otln'r 
tute'-ory  within  the  ranije  of  knowlodi^c 

Tims  book  by  book  of  the  authorities  collected  wa ; 
passed  through  the  hands  of  skilled  assistants,  and 
with  cheeks  and  counter-checks  an  innnenso  and  a!l- 
roiiiprehending  system  of  indexing  was  applied  to  each 
vdhiiue.  Piiysical,  moral,  geographical,  historical,  from 
the  libreofan  Eskimo's  hair  to  t]iQ  coup  dc  nuiU re  ui' 
Cortes,  nothing  was  too  insignificant  or  too  great  to 
liiid  its  place  there.  With  the  index  cards  before  him, 
the  student  or  writer  may  turn  at  once  to  the  volume 
iind  page  desired;  indeed,  so  simple  and  yet  so  elleet- 
ual  are  the  workings  of  the  system  that  a  man  may 
seat  himself  at  a  bare  table  and  say  to  a  boy,  Bring 
nie  all  that  is  known  about  the  conquest  of  Darieii, 
llu'  mines  of  Nevada,  the  missions  of  Lower  Califor- 
nia, the  agriculture  of  Oregon,  the  lumber  interests 
of  \\'ashington,  the  state  of  Sonora,  the  town  of 
(^ULictaro,  or  any  other  information  extant,  or  any 
(k'st'ription,  regarding  any  described  portion  of  the 
western  half  of  North  America,  and  straightway,  as 
at  the  call  of  a  magician,  such  knowledge  is  spread 
before  him,  with  the  volumes  opened  at  the  page. 
Aladdin's  lamp  could  produce  no  such  results.  That 
counnanded  material  wealth,  but  here  is  a  sorcery  that 
conjures  up  the  wealth  of  mind  and  places  it  at  the 
disj)osition  of  the  seer. 

Hundreds  of  years  of  profitless  uninteresting  labor 
may  be  saved  by  this  simple  device;  and  a  prominent 
feature  of  it  is  that  the  mdex  is  equally  valuable  in 
connection  with  any  other  library  where  copies  of  my 
material  may  exist.  The  cost  of  this  index  was  about 
thiity-five  thousand  dollars,  but  its  value  is  not  to  bo 
measured  by  money. 


Lit.  Ind.    18 


242 


A  LITERARY  WORKSHOP. 


■.:i 

i 


After  the  explanation  given,  one  would  think  it  easy 
to  find  men  who  could  make  this  index.  But  it  was  not 
so.  Never  was  there  man  or  woman  who  looked  at  it 
but  instantly  knew  or  thouglit  tliev  knew,  all  about  it; 
yet  nineteen  out  of  twenty  who  attempted  it  failed. 
Tlie  difliculty  was  this:  to  be  of  value,  the  work  nuist 
all  be  done  on  a  uniform  plan.  If  one  competent  ]u  r- 
son  could  have  done  the  whole,  the  index  would  \)o 
all  the  better.  But  one  person  could  not  do  all;  from 
live  to  twenty  men  were  constantly  employed  u])f)ii 
it  for  years.  Many  of  the  books  were  indexetl  two  or 
three  times,  owing  to  the  incompetency  of  those  who 
first  undertook  the  task. 

It  was  extremely  difficult  to  make  the  indoxers 
comprehend  what  to  note  and  what  not.  Rules  for 
gcmeral  guidance  could  bo  laid  down,  vet  in  evorv 
instance  something  must  be  left  to  the  discretion  oi' 
tlie  individual.  All  must  work  to  a  given  plan,  yet 
all  must  use  judgment.  In  attompting  this,  one  would 
adhere  so  i-igidly  to  I'ule  as  to  jnit  down  a  snbjoct- 
heading  wlienever  a  mere  word  was  encountered, 
oven  though  unaccompanied  by  any  information.  U', 
for  exami)le,  the  sentence  occurred,  "The  machinoiy 
of  government  had  not  yet  been  set  in  motion  along 
the  Sierra  footliiils,"  su(^h  an  indexer  would  mak(  a 
card  under  Machinery,  to  tlie  infinite  disgust  of  llic 
investigator  of  meclianical  affairs.  At  the  same  time, 
most  im])ortant  facts  might  be  omitted,  simply  i'e- 
cause  tliey  were  not  expressed  in  words  which  broadly 
pointed  to  a  subject  on  the  list.  Then,  too,  there  \v,is 
nuich  difference  between  men  in  aptness,  some  find- 
ing it  necessary  to  i)lod  through  every  line  bel'oiv 
grasping  the  pith  of  the  matter,  while  others  acquired 
such  expertness  that  they  coukl  tell  by  mow  !y 
glancing  down  a  page  whether  it  contained  any  nsi  iid 
information.  But  by  constant  accessions  and  elimina- 
tions a  sufficient  number  of  competent  persons  was 
found  to  carry  the  work  forward  to  comjnetion. 

When  a  volume  was  finished  the  indexer  would 


A  UXrV'ERSAL  INDEX. 


l\nicl  it  with  his  cards  to  Mr  Oak  or  Mr  Nemos,  who 
Li.inccd  over  the  work,  testing  it  licre  and  there  to 
s.c  that  it  was  jiroperly  done,  and  then  oave  <iut 
iiiiother  book.  Finally  the  cards  were  all  classitied 
under  their  distinguishhig  title,  and  placed  in  alpha- 
lii'tical  order  in  npright  cupboard-like  cases  madi^  lor 
the  purpose.  The  cases  are  each  about  five  ieet  in 
li(  ight,  lour  feet  in  width,  and  less  than  six  inches  in 
lliiclaiess,  with  board  partitions,  and  tin  shelves  slant- 
iii.;'  inward  to  hold  the  cards  in  place.  The  partitions 
ni'c  distant  apart  the  length  of  the  card,  and  the 
depth  of  the  case  is  equivalent  to  the  width  <if  the 
<;ir(l.  In  other  words,  the  receptacles  were  made  to 
lit  the  cards. 

In  special  work  of  great  magnitude,  such  as  cx- 
liiiustive  history,  it  is  necessary  to  invest  the  system 
oi'  indexing  with  greater  detail,  more  as  it  was  lirst 
estahlished,  making  innumerable  special  references, 
so  tliat  when  done  and  arranged  accordinuf  to  subli-et 
and  date,  all  that  has  been  said  by  every  author  <»u 
ewry  pnint  is  In'ought  together  in  the  form  of  notes. 
I  sliall  have  occasion  to  refer  to  this  subject  again. 

Such  was  tlie  machinery  which  we  found  neces- 
saiy  to  contrive  in  order  to  extract  the  desir(,'d  material 
finni  the  cumliersome  mass  beibre  us.  And  by  this 
nr  other  similar  moans  alone  can  the  contents  of  any 
lai'ne  library  be  utilized;  and  the  larger  the  colleetitm 
the  more  necessity  for  such  an  index.  A  universal 
iniloN,  applicable  toany  library,  or  to  the  books  of  the 
woilil  collectively,  might  ])e  made  with  incalculable 
advantage  to  civilization;  but  the  task  wouUl  be  hcr- 
(uLan,  involvinij  the  rcadinjj:  of  all  the  b()ok>  and 
manuscripts  in  existence.  Such  an  instrument  in  tho 
hands  of  a  student  may  be  likened  to  the  dart  gi\  cu 
hy  Aharis,  the  Ilyporborean  priest,  to  Pythagorns, 
\vhicli  cairied  the  possessor  over  rivers  and  mountains 
whithi-rsoever  he  liste<l.  This  will  probably  ne\  er  bo 
<lon",  although  theoretically  the  [)lan  is  not  so  ])rtp<»- 
t«  rolls  as  ni'.glit  at  first  glance  ap[>ear.    No  individual 


244 


A  LITERARY  WORKSHOP. 


possessed  of  reason  would  undertake  it  as  a  private 
Bchcme;  necessarily  it  must  be  a  national,  or  rathei- 
an  international,  work;  and  the  number  of  persons  ol' 
different  climes  and  tongues  to  be  employed  would  very 
likely  prove  fatal  to  it.  Yet  I  believe  the  time  will 
come  when  all  the  chief  libraries  of  the  world  will 
have  their  index.  Surely  in  no  other  way  can  scholars 
command  the  knowledge  contained  in  books;  and  as 
books  multiply,  the  necessity  increases. 


it  11 


CHAPTER  XI. 


SOMIO  OF  MY  ASSISTANTS. 

Vot  cliaos-likc  togetlicr  crusliM  and  bmis'd, 
3\it,  as  the  M'orUl,  liarnioniously  confus'd, 
Where  order  in  variety  wc  see, 
And  wlierc,  though  all  thiugs  difTer,  all  agree. 

Pope. 

Those  to  whom  I  apply  the  term  assistantn  by  no 
means  include  all  the  army  of  workers  who  have  at 
various  times  and  in  various  ways  lent  me  their  ser- 
vices in  my  historical  efforts.     I)urin<^  the  long  term 
of  H>y  labors,  it  is  safe  to  say  that  no  less  than  six 
hundred  different   ])ersons  were  at  work  for  nu;  at 
various  times  in  my  librar}''.     As  tlie  minimum,  the 
iiuuibor  ent^a^ed  in  tljc  library  at  any  ono  time  dur- 
ing' a  jieriod  of  thirty  years  seldom  fell  below  twelve; 
tlir  liio-hest  beinu:  fiftv,  some  thirtv  of  whom  were  on 
i'(;4ular  details.      The  hii^hest  nund)er  was  e-mployed, 
Imvcver,  only  when  there  was  extra  work  to  do,  such 
lis  special  indexini^,  extracting,  eo|)yiiig,  (»r  verifications. 
My  assistants  proper,  as  the  term   is  used   here,  are 
those  who  aided  me  in  my  more  responsible  labors,  and 
may  be  reduced  to  twenty  in  all,  though  more  than  a 
hundred  made  the  effort  unsuccessfully  at  one  time  or 
aiiolhcr. 

All  my  life,  whatever  I  have  had  in  hand,  whether 
in  the  field  of  business  or  of  literature,  I  have  always 
hieu  fortunate  enough  to  liave  good  men  about  me, 
iiDtonly  efficient  aids,  but  those  whom  I  could  call  my 
li  lends,  and  the  enjoyment  of  whose  r<  gard  was  ever 
a  source  of  gratification.  Obviously  this  is  a  neces- 
>'ity  whenever  a  person    undertakes  to   accomplish 

(215) 


246 


SOME  OP  MY  ASSISTANTS. 


!   t 


more  in  any  direction  than  a  single  head  and  pair  of 
hands  can  do  in  a  hfetinie.  Tliough  all  have  not 
:ibility  and  integrity,  I  have  always  found  some  in 
mIiosu  faithfulness  I  could  trust  as  in  my  own;  and 
while  the  responsibility  must  always  rest  upon  me 
alone,  some  portion  of  that  praise  which  has  been  so 
lavishly  bestowed  upon  me  and  my  enterprise  rightly 
belongs  to  them. 

Not  only  must  the  man  who  would  assist  in  his- 
torical work  aiming  at  the  truth  be  honest,  but 
honesty  must  be  so  inbred,  so  permeating  the  blodd 
and  bones  of  him,  that  deceit  shall  find  no  entrance. 
Not  only  must  he  be  conscientious,  but  conscience 
must  have  full  possession,  and  all  his  thoughts  and 
tictions  be  as  under  the  all-seoing  eye.  For  the  oji- 
portunities,  and  to  the  careless  and  unprincipled  the 
inducements,  for  slighting  the  work,  for  takinnf  tlie 
easiest  rather  than  the  most  thorough  wav  of  doing 
a  thing,  are  so  great,  that  if  so  disposed  he  may  devote 
the  requisite  nnniber  of  hours  to  his  task  and  ac- 
(•()m})lish  worse  than  nothing.  If  heedless  and  indit- 
i'erent,  and  he  be  so  disposed,  he  may  save  himself 
much  drudger}',  the  perfornKince  of  which  never  would 
be  known  or  appreciated.  Hence,  I  say,  love  of  truth 
for  truth's  sake  must  be  to  every  one  of  these  men  :is 
tlie  apple  of  his  eye.  It  is  true,  every  man  is  known 
to  his  fellows,  and  thoroughly  known  in  the  end.  No 
one,  however  cunning,  can  deceive  and  escape  detec- 
tion always.  He  will  be  weighed  and  measured  as 
time  passes  by  at  his  exact  value;  but  in  researches 
like  mine,  ho  could,  if  ho  would,  sul)ject  one  to  gn  at 
annoyance,  and  sjioil  jis  much  as  or  more  than  he 
aeeonijilished,  which,  indeed,  was  not  unfrequentty 
done  in  my  library. 

First  among  my  collaborators  I  may  mention  hero 
Henry  Lebbeus  Oak.  I  have  already  told  how  he 
first  came  to  the  library,  and  at  an  early  day  became 
an  imi)ortant  adjunct  to  it.     I  have  often  regarded  it 


HENRY  L.  OAK. 


2-17 


as  remarkable  tliat  so  true  and  conscientious  a  friend, 
so  faithful  a  librarian  {ind  laborer,  should  so  early 
and  opportunely  have  come  to  my  aid.  lie  was  born 
at  Garland,  Maine,  on  the  13th  of  May,  1844.  Hia 
Welsh,  English,  and  Scotch  ancestry  was  American 
on  all  four  sides  from  a  date  preceding  the  revolution ; 
his  great-grandfather,  the  liev.  Ebenezer  Hill,  was  a 
Harvard  man  of  1786,  and  his  grandparents,  unmind- 
ful of  the  star  of  empire,  moved  to  Maine  from  Bos- 
cawen  and  Mason,  New  Hampshire,  early  in  the 
})rosent  century. 

Childhood  and  youth  were  passed  uneventfully  in 
his  native  village.  School  duties  were  mingled  with 
a  little  work  in  garden,  stable,  wood-shed,  or  in  the 
shop  of  his  father,  who  was  a  harness-maker.  His 
parents,  however,  weie  indulgent;  there  was  but  lit- 
tle work  to  be  done,  and  I  cannot  learn  that  he  was 
over  anxious  to  do  that  little;  thus  most  of  his  time 
was  spent  in  idleness,  mischief,  and  novel-reading, 
varied  with  out-door  sports  of  the  (juieter  class;  for 
vice  and  dissipation  he  had  slight  inclination,  and  still 
li'.>s  oj)portunity.  He  was  educated  at  the  eonnnon 
and  high  school,  attending  the  latter,  which  was  lx- 
(Hptionally  good  at  Garland,  in  autumn  and  spring, 
iVom  tile  age  of  ten  years. 

In  18G1  he  entered  the  freshman  class  of  Bowdoiii 
college,  and  was  graduated  at  Dartmouth  in  the  class 
of  1805.  His  college  course  corresponded  in  tiuie 
wiih  the  great  civil  war  which  called  away  many  tit' 
liis  classmates;  and  indeed,  Oak  often  had  the  desire 
— a  most  foolish  one,  as  it  seemed  to  him  later — to 
enlist,  but  was  ke))t  from  doing  so  by  the  o])positioii 
e!'  his  parents,  who  were  giving  him  a  college  educa- 
tiiMi  at  a  sacrifice  they  could  ill  afford.  In  the  winter 
vacations  he  taught  school  in  different  towns  of  his 
nati'vu  state;  and  after  graduation  was  eni[)loye(l  for 
a  year  as  assistant  in  an  academy  at  j\lorristo\\  n, 
New  Jersey.  The  occupation  was  most  distasteful, 
though  our  Yankee  schoolmaster  seems  to  have  had 


Ill 

■f 


I.  I 
i  i 


248 


SOMK  OF  MY  ASSISTANTS. 


i  I 
■■  ■!  I' 


fair  success  as  instructor  and  disciplinarian;  and  in 
the  hope  of  one  day  shaking  it  off,  he  prepared  for 
commerce  by  devoting  some  evenings  to  the  study  of 
book-keeping,  and  for  law  by  borrowing  a  law-book 
and  letting  it  lie  on  his  table  till  the  owner  wanted  it. 
California  then  came  to  his  rescue,  as  she  has  rescued 
many  another,  saving  some  from  hell,  but  vastly  more 
from  heaven.  Through  the  aid  of  his  college  room- 
mate,  George  R.  Williams,  an  old  Californian,  then 
studying  law  at  Petaluma,  he  obtained  an  engagement 
as  clerk  in  the  grain  warehouse  of  McNear  Brothers, 
and  came  to  California  by  steamer  in  18GG.  Illness, 
something  new  in  Oak's  experience,  soon  forced  him 
to  quit  this  employment,  and  reduced  him,  financially, 
to  nothing;  indeed,  I  have  heard  him  attribute  his 
escape  from  permanent  lodgings  at  Lone  mountain, 
or  some  less  expensive  resort  for  the  dead,  to  the 
kindness  of  Mr  and  Mrs  S.  F.  Barstow  of  San  Fran- 
cisco, the  latter  a  sister  of  Williams,  at  whose  house 
he  was  well  cared  for.  A.nd,  here  I  sav,  mav  God's 
best  blessing  rest  on  those  who,  at  the  cost  of  time, 
money,  and  personal  convenience,  befi-iended  sick  and 
destitute  wanderers  in  the  early  gold-getting  days  of 
California  and  later. 

On  his  feet  again,  with  the  aid  of  John  Swett, 
in  the  spring  of  18G7  Oak  found  a  position  as  princi- 
pal of  the  llaywards  public  school,  where  he  remained 
for  one  term,  rapidly  regaining  Ins  health;  and  then 
for  a  term  became  assistant  at  the  Napa  collegiate 
institute,  a  methodist  institution,  where  the  tcrui 
'assistant'  was  somewhat  com])rehensive,  since  the 
])iincipal  was  on  the  circuit  and  but  rarely  made  hi^^ 
appearance.  A  peculiar  phase  of  his  experience  heie, 
to  which  I  have  heard  him  allude,  was  the  rather  em- 
barrassing necessity  of  conducting  school  and  family 
prayers,  besides  asking  a  blessing  on  rather  doubt  I'ul 
food  three  times  a  day,  as  he  had  recklessly  agreed  at 
the  first  to  do,  rather  than  l«)se  the  job,  if  the  prinei- 
jxil  should  chance  now  and  then  to  be  absent.     Five 


HENRY  L.  OAK. 


240 


months  of  this  sort  of  thing  became  somewhat  tedious, 
thou;^h,  b}'  developing  episcopalian  tendencies,  he 
avoided  having  to  keep  up  a  reputation  with  the 
brethren  at  prayer-meetings,  and  even  read  his  family 
service  from  a  book,  though  the  school  prayer  some- 
tiines  became  prayed  out  and  required  remodelling. 
I  find  nothing  of  hypocrisy  in  all  this;  in  a  sense, 
though  i'ast  drifting  into  free  thought,  he  was  in  ear- 
nest; it  lakes  a  long  time  for  a  boy  to  rid  himself  of 
the  old  beliefs  that  are  breathed  in  with  the  New 
England  air,  and  Oak  saw  no  harm  in  addressing  pe- 
titions to  a  supreme  being,  even  if  that  being  and  his 
methods  were  not  quite  so  clear  to  him  as  they  seemed 
to  others.  And  later,  when  his  religious  creed — that 
of  entire  ignorance  respecting  the  affairs  of  another 
woild,  mingled  with  respect  and  somewhat  of  envy 
i'or  those  who  know  all  about  it — had  become  moie 
stttkid,  I  doubt  not  he  would  have  performed  the 
stiange  task  with  nuich  loss  embarrassment,  even  if 
Nbiliannned  or  Quetzalcoatl  had  been  the  object  of 
It  Kill  worship. 

From  Napa  ho  came  ngain  to  San  Francisco;  and 
in  (lie  spring  of  18G8,  after  a  long  period  of  idleness;, 
when  on  the  point  of  being  forced  by  lack  of  funds  to 
become  again  a  teacher,  he  was  employed  as  office 
e(Utor  of  the  Occident,  a  presbytcrian  organ;  and  a 
year  later,  when  the  publication  of  that  pa))cr  passed 
from  the  control  of  our  firm,  he  assumed  the  position  of 
liltiarian  aiitl  superintendent  of  that  wide  rangi'  of 
intiicate  detail  essential  to  extracting  material  in  the 
liaiiddft  lil)i'ai'v,  a  })laee  he  held  continuouslv  lor  a 
pciiod  of  nearly  twenty  years. 

I  Kup|)ose  nature  has  a  place  and  purpose  for  every- 
thing she  n)akes,  thougli  it  cei'tainly  would  seem  tliat 
ii"t  everything  made  by  naturt;  iinds  its  place  and 
]»inpnse.  This  nian,  however,  certainly  found  his  vo- 
lation.  and  fitted  himself  to  it  perfectly,  in  him 
Wt  ic  condtined,  in  a  remai'kable  de^rei',  th(»se  rare  and 
luiniiiahle   (jualities  essential    to  the  work,      .\bility, 


2J0 


SOME  OP  MY  ASSISTANm 


•  f 


application,  endurance,  clear-headedness,  and  sound 
judgment,  united  with  patience  and  enthusiasm,  en- 
abled him  to  trample  down  many  of  the  obstachjs 
which  constantly  beset  our  path.  He  had  a  thorougli 
knowledge  of  Spanish  and  French,  with  a  useful 
smattering  of  other  languages.  Pleasant  and  affable 
to  all  around  him,  he  sought  no  man's  company. 
Methodical  in  his  habits,  having  little  to  do  with  so- 
ciety, he  fastened  his  mind  upon  the  work,  and  there 
kept  it  day  after  day,  and  year  after  year.  No  one 
ever  has  known,  or  ever  will  know,  the  early  history 
of  California  or  the  Spanish  northwest  as  we  knew  it 
then — I  say  never  will  know  it,  because,  if  possessed 
of  taste,  time,  talent,  and  all  other  necessary  quali- 
ties, no  one  will  have  the  same  opportunity.  His- 
tory was  in  the  mouths  of  men,  and  in  the  air  as  well 
as  in  old  letters  and  musty  manuscripts.  Soon  all 
this  clianued;  and  tonu'ues  that  then  talked  of  mis- 
sion  life,  the  Bear  Flag  war,  and  the  gold-gatheriii;,^ 
struggle  of  the  nations,  were  forever  silenced;  yit 
only  henjafter  will  the  value  of  a  com[)lete  record 
made  before  it  was  too  late  be  fully  ai)[)reciated. 

Oak  is  plain  of  speech  Without  dogmatism  ho 
has  an  oj)inion,  and  usually  a  clear  and  correct  oik;, 
on  almost  every  current  topic,  particularly  if  it  1>j 
connected  with  his  work  or  the  library.  And  in  the 
expression  of  opinion  he  is  not  timid.  It  has  been 
my  custom  from  the  beginning  to  discuss  freely  with 
him  and  others  every  question  of  importance  arising 
in  my  work.  I  have  always  courted  criticism  from 
those  about  me  as  freely  as  I  have  been  ready  to  be- 
stow it  on  them.  Often  somewhat  radical  differences 
of  opinion  have  arisen  between  Oak  and  myself; 
but  during  the  many  pleasant  years  we  have  labored 
together,  the  first  disrespectful  thought  has  yet  to  find 
utterance,  the  first  unkind  word  has  yet  to  be  spoken. 

It  is  a  remarkable  fact  that  this  is  the  only  live 
Yankee  to  find  permanent  occupation  in  my  work. 
New  Englanders  in  California,  as  a  rule,  make  better 


WILLIAM  NEMOS. 


SSI 


business  men  than  literary  men.  Tiiey  are  here  too 
eager  for  traffic,  too  anxious  to  trade  jack-knives,  too 
.sharp  after  the  dollars,  to  settle  down  to  plodding 
brain-work  which  yields  them  no  substantial  return. 
Their  minds  are  no  better  iitted  for  it  than  their 
inclinations.  Their  education  has  taken  a  different 
turn.  Their  ambition  is  of  that  caste  that  culture 
alone  will  not  satisfy.  They  want  money,  houses, 
horses,  wine,  and  tobacco.  We  of  the  fifth  floor, 
and  of  Valencia  Street,  did  not  eschew  all  these.  Wo 
were  no  anchorites,  though  trimming  our  midnight 
lamp  and  working  in  a  garret.  But  when  our  stom- 
achs were  full,  and  divers  other  longings  gratified,  wo 
remembered  that  we  had  heads. 

In  the  mercantile  and  manufacturing  parts  of  the 
business,  on  the  other  hand,  the  Anglo-American 
element  was  displayed  to  the  greatest  advantage. 
There  boys  were  to  be  found  brimful  ^)i'  energy  and 
ambition,  bound  to  carve  for  themselves  a  fortune 
or  die;  also  men  of  ability  and  intogi-ity,  many  of 
whom  I  reared  and  educated  in  the  book-selling  occu- 
pation myself. 

Working  in  the  library  at  one  time  I  have  had 
representatives  from  England,  Ireland,  and  Scotland ; 
from  France,  Germany,  and  Switzerland;  from  Rus- 
sia, Poland,  Spain,  and  Italy — with  but  one  from  any 
part  of  the  United  States.  ]3ut  let  me  say  that  this 
one,  in  regard  to  ability,  integrity,  and  life-devotion 
to  me  and  my  cause,  was  surpassed  by  none. 


Never  was  there  a  more  devoted,  faithful  worker  in 
any  field  than  my  valued  friend  William  Xemos,  a  nom 
(le  j)]ume  by  which  he  preferred  to  be  known  among 
us.  Jletiring  in  all  his  tastes,  and  enthusiastic  as  a 
student,  he  loved  to  dip  into  lore  of  eveiy  description, 
witli  a  ])redilection  for  the  abstruse  and  for  linjjfuistics. 
Jle'  possessed,  indeed,  a  knowK-dge  more  or  less 
complete  of  all  the  principal  languages  of  Europe, 
W'om  those  of  Spain  and  Italy  in  the  south,  to  Kus- 


2r)2 


SOME  OF  MY   ASSISTANTS. 


I  i 

i  i 


ii, 


sian  and  Swcdisli  in  tlio  nortli,  the  latter  liis  native* 
t(tiij4H(\  Fuither  than  this,  after  lit'  ciitcred  luy 
library  lu'  improved  ra|>idly  in  inetiiod,  taste,  and 
style.  ]^ut  let  iiie  hrielly  tell  the  story  <»f  his  early 
lite. 

At  the  foot  of  Bore,  where  the  .snow-crowned  sum- 
mits of  the  lofty  fjelds  <(leam  in  perpetual  defiance  of 
Helios,  beside  a  roaring  torrent  that  issued  from  the 
rugged  mountains,  he  was  born,  in  February  1 848, 
his  natal  day  being  next  after  Washington's.  Poor 
Finland!  Will  naught  satisi'y  the  tyrannous  Musco- 
vite till  the  last  drop  of  Scandinivian  blood  be  let  upon 
the  thirsty  earth? 

His  father  was  a  nobleman,  not  rich;  his  mother  of 
a  wealthy  family  of  good  stock.  His  ancestry  and 
his  country's  glorious  past,  with  stories  of  the  mighty 
Kucko,  and  of  the  famous  Oden,  who  gathered  the 
braves  unto  his  Walhalla,  were  duly  impressed  uptju 
his  youthful  mind.  German  and  piano  lessons  were 
first  given  him  by  his  mother.  A  talent  for  lan- 
guages was  early  developed  under  parental  tuition,  so 
that  an  uncle  insisted  he  should  go  to  St  Petersbuig, 
and  thttre  prepare  himself  for  some  position  under  the 
tzar. 

Wrapped  in  contraband  stuffs,  he  w^as  passed 
tremblingly  through  the  hands  of  the  fierce  jMusco- 
vites  into  the  gentler  ones  of  a  lady  for  whom  the  goods 
were  intended,  and  who  unrolled  him  with  affectionate 
earc.  After  a  year  at  private  school  he  returned 
home  to  attend  the  church  or  granunar  school;  it 
was  finally  determined  that  the  g3'mnasium,  or  classic 
high  school,  at  Sto('klK)lm  was  the  place  for  him; 
so  to  the  Venice  of  the  north  he  was  forthwitli 
sent,  prej»aratory  to  entering  the  lljjsala  imiversity, 
where  at  the  time  was  a  brother  whom  he  visited 
occasionally  to  obtain  initiation  into  the  student  life 
proposed  for  him  also,  but  not  to  be  realized. 

After  a  pretty  thorough  course  of  mathematics  and 
the  classics  at  Stockhohn,  com[)licated  family  aflaiis 


WILLIAM  NEMOS. 


compelled  him  to  break  off  his  studies,  go  to  London, 
and  enter  a  commission  and  ship-broker  office.  The 
place  was  procured  tlirouij:h  th<)  favoring  influence 
of  a  family  friend  in  London,  who  wisely  deemed  a 
thorough  acquisition  of  the  English  language  and 
business  routine  of  the  highest  advantage  to  his  young 
friend. 

Pride  and  sensitiveness  would  not  permit  him  to 
(hag  the  time-honoreil  family  title  into  the  dusty  pur- 
lieus of  a  London  trafficker's  office,  or  to  consent  Miat 
it  should  otherwise  be  lightly  treated.  Rather  let  it 
be  laid  aside  until  such  time  as  it  might  Ije  worn 
again  with  befitting  form. 

He  continued  his  studies,  which  now  included  a 
course  of  philosphy  under  an  Upsala  graduate.  Well 
grounded  in  the  critical  system  of  Kant,  with  its  sub- 
jective methods,  this  tutor  could  not  but  feel  the  in- 
consistency of  theories  which,  centring  everything  in 
the  ego,  yet  left  this  involved  in  hopeless  confusion. 
On  coming  to  England,  therefore,  Nemos  was  natu- 
rally drawn  more  strongly  to  her  typical  empiricism, 
as  presented  in  the  sense-perceptions  of  Locke,  al- 
though even  here  the  mist  could  not  be  cleared,  for 
instance,  from  the  hypothetic  duality  in  the  i  elation 
between  ideas  and  qualities.  Nemos  profited  by  these 
inquiries  in  a  comparative  study  of  both  the  experi- 
mentarian  and  transcendental  doctrines,  and  this  under 
the  guidance  of  a  devotee  whose  enthusiasm  tenikcl 
to  impress  his  teachings. 

Alter  a  business  training  of  eighteen  months  he 
was  transferred  to  a  position  in  a  leading  house  trad- 
ing with  India.  There  he  remained  at  a  good  salary 
tor  five  years,  acting  as  junior  corres[)ondent,  aftei- 
l)eing  for  a  time  in  charge  of  the  shipping  depart- 
ment, and  sometimes  aid  to  the  cashier.      Trips  to  the 

iitinent  during  summer  vacation  afforded  a  pleasing 


CO 


variation   from    business    routine,   and  added   to   the 
instructive  sights  of  l^ondon. 

Ill  health,  apparently  more  imaginary  than  real,  now 


264 


SOME  OF  MY  ASSISTANTS. 


broke  Ills  connection  with  the  British  metropolis  nnj 
sent  him  adrift  upon  the  sea.  Hard  study,  and  a 
neglect  of  due  attention  to  hours  and  exercise,  had 
affected  his  spirits,  and  as  a  sister  had  died  of  con- 
sumption, the  fear  seized  him  of  congenital  tendencies. 
Correspondence  with  the  family  physician  at  home 
brought  about  the  resolution  to  take  a  long  voyage 
In  the  spring  of  1870  he  left  Liverpool  by  sailing 
vessel  for  Australia,  and  arrived  at  Melbourne,  after 
a  i)leasant  voyage,  the  third  month  out.  There,  with 
many  of  his  fellow-passengers,  he  made  haste  to  sock 
employment,  and  as  thousands  have  done  in  that 
city  as  in  San  Francisco,  sought  in  vain^ 

The  allurement  of  gold  stole  upon  his  youthful 
fancy,  with  dreams  of  hidden  treasures  and  speedy 
enrichment.  A  still  feeble  constitution  pleaded, 
moreover,  for  bracing  mountain  air,  and  confinement 
within  the  narrow  bounds  of  a  ship,  after  a  still 
longer  enchainment  to  the  desk,  assisted  by  mere 
contrast  to  gild  the  unfettered  life  in  camp  and  forest. 
Soon  came  disenchantment. 

In  the  mines  he  fell  amonjj  thieves.  One  of  his 
partners  was  an  ex-convict,  who  prompted  the  rest 
to  recompense  him  for  furnishing  all  the  supplies  of 
flour,  bactm,  whiskey,  and  tobacco  for  the  company 
by  concealing  in  their  mouths  the  little  gold  they  took 
out.  This  was,  perhaps,  as  neat  an  arrangement  as 
the  villains  ever  concocted,  and  remarkably  simple — 
they  had  a  man  to  furnish  all  the  provisions,  wliili: 
they  took  all  the  proceeds. 

When  his  money  was  gone,  Nemos  concluded  to  dis- 
solve the  partnership  and  retire  from  business.  Driv- 
ing his  partners  out  of  cam]),  he  packed  up  and 
returned  to  Melbourne,  and  thence  proceeded  to 
Sydney.  There  he  revelled  in  the  tranquil  beauties 
of  that  southern  Pacific  garden — to  him  a  paradise 
of  verdure-clad  promontories  creeping  softly  into  tlie 
still  waters,  as  if  to  woo  the  orange  groves  of  the  tiny 
isles  bathing  at  their  feet;   to  the  California  of  tliu 


THOMAS  SAVAGE. 

rushlnjif,  roaring  times,  a  pararliao  of  Satan-scrpojits 
si'iuling  its  slimy  hrood  across  the  ocean  to  set  on  firo 
the  incipient  licll  already  there  prepared  by  the  as- 
bcinl'led  }jj()ld-drunken  hosts. 

Jfawaii  next,  and  then  San  Francisco,  landini^  at 
the  latter  in  midsummer  1871;  and  thence  to  Orej^on 
to  accept  an  engagement  as  assistant  civil  engineer  on 
tlu)  proposed  railroad.  This  being  finished,  1H73  saw 
him  again  in  San  Francisco.  Failing  to  obtain  con- 
genial employment,  he  determined  to  go  to  New 
York,  satisfied  that  his  linguistic  attainments  would 
ho  better  appreciated  there  than  in  the  far  west.  ]3ut 
ill  the  menu  time  my  efforts  attracted  his  attention, 
juid  ho  readily  obtained  permanent  employment  in 
the  library. 

In  this  labor  his  rare  abilities  for  the  first  time 
found  fitting  occupation.  Little  by  little,  through- 
out almost  the  entire  period  of  my  historical  efibrts, 
his  talents  unfolded,  until  in  many  respects  he  stood 
first,  and  became  director  of  the  lil)rary  ilctail,  includ- 
ing later  the  librarianship.  He  h.ad  a  reuiarkable 
faculty  for  systematizing  work,  and  drilling  men  into 
a  common  method,  as  before  ex))lained.  Alive  to  tlu' 
iiitcrests  of  the  library  as  to  his  own,  he  was  ever 
jealous  of  its  reputation,  and  untiring  in  his  efforts  to 
see  produced  historical  results  only  of  the  soundest 
and  most  reliable  order.  I  would  that  the  countries 
among  whose  archives  he  has  spent  the  better  part  of 
his  life  laboring,  might  appreciate  his  services  to  them 
at  their  proper  worth. 

Thomas  Savage  was  born  in  the  city  of  Habana,  of 
Now  England  parents,  the  27th  of  August,  1823. 
His  ancestors  were  among  the  earliest  settlers  of 
Boston,  many  of  whom  acquired  wealth  and  distinc- 
tion in  various  professions. 

When  nine  years  of  age  the  boy  could  speak  Span- 
ish better  than  English,  and  French  more  fluently 
than  either.     He  read  Don  Quixote  in  Spanish  be- 


896 


SOME  OF  MY  ASSISTANTS. 


• 


fore  he  had  been  taught  the  alpliabet.  Masters  were 
provided  him,  and  he  was  also  sent  to  scliooi  at 
lfaba,na,  wliere  he  read  the  Latin  classics,  became 
proficient  in  mathematics,  and  prepared  himseU'  lor 
the  legal  profession. 

His  father,  who  was  a  man  of  fine  business  ability, 
making  money  easily  and  rapidly,  but  somewhat  de- 
ficient in  the  art  of  keei)ing  it,  died  when  Thomas  Avas 
quite  young.  Ill  hcaltli  obliged  him  at  length  to 
abandon  study;  besides,  he  had  no  taste  for  the  law. 
Yet  in  the  short  time  spent  at  his  studies  he  learneii 
enough  to  be  able  to  rapidly  transcribe  for  me,  in  a 
hand  as  neat  as  Thackeray's  or  Leigh  Hunt's,  upon 
the  usual  half-sheets  of  legal  paper,  a  clear  transla- 
tion of  almost  any  language  I  might  choose  to  })la((5 
before  him.  He  was  sickly  fnnn  childhood;  many 
times  his  life  was  despaired  of,  and  ever  since  I  have 
known  him  he  hos  been  a  constant  sufferer;  yet  all 
the  while  he  has  worked  as  industriously  and  as  clicer- 
rully  as  if  «'nj()ying  t\\v  best  health. 

Several  children  were  the  result  of  marriaije  in  1  8r)(>. 
but  sickness  and  death  kept  his  purse  low.  Within  a 
period  of  ten  years  Mr  Savage  buried  thirteen  mem- 
bcr.s  of  his  family. 

A  few  years  in  a  mercantile  house  as  book-keeper 
were  followed  by  an  engagement  in  the  Ignited  Stales 
consulate,  as  clerk  under  Robert  B.  Cami)l)ell,  then 
consul  at  Habana.  For  twenty-one  and  a  half  years 
thereafter  Mr  Savage  was  in  continuous  consulati; 
service,  portions  of  the  time  in  charge  of  the  olhcc  as 
deputy  and  as  chief 

During  his  long  tenure  of  oflfice  many  important 
international  questions  arose,  in  which  he  took  {)art, 
and  many  were  the  acts  of  disinterested  chaiity  j)er- 
formed  by  him,  particularly  to  ])assing  Californians  in 
trouble.  The  years  1849-51  at  this  port  were  si)e- 
cially  impoitant,  both  to  the  United  States  and  t'> 
California.  Then  it  was  that  his  thorough  knowl- 
edge of  the  Spanish  language,  and  his  long  experience 


THOMAS  SAVAGE. 


2.-7 


iters  wore 
school  iit 
J,  became 
imselt'  lor 

iss  abilit)', 
jwliat  de- 
loinas  ^va^^ 
length  to 
•  the  law. 
he  learncil 
:  nic,  in  a 
int's,  u})oii 
ir  transla- 
l;   to   pliic(i 
3ocl;  mai\y 
nee  I  liavo 
or;  yet  all 
id  as  cheer- 
lire  in  1  8r)(>. 
Within  a 
Iteen  nieni- 

)ok-keeper 

I  ted  Stales 

|)bell,  tlion 

half  years 

consulate 

10  olhcc  as 

limportant 
[took  part, 
liarity  pev- 
Vornians  in 
[were  s\)v- 
.'S  and  to 
rh  knosvl- 
ixperience 


in  consular  business,  rendered  his  services  Invaluable. 
In  Mexican-war  times  General  Santa  Anna  was  there 
whiliiig   away    the  tedious  hours  of  exile  by  cock- 
ligliting.     Mr   Savage   was  present  at  an  interview 
between  ^Ir  Cain])bel)  and  Santa  Anna  to  obtain  the 
hitter's  views  as  to  tjie  future  policy  of  Mexico.     Al- 
uionto,  Hi'jon,  J>a,sadre,  and  others  were  present,  but 
l!ic  wily  ^lexican,  though  by  no  means  reserved,  was 
extremely  non-con)mittal.     The  invasions  of  Cuba  by 
liOpcz  in    1850-1,  the   last  of  which  terminated  so 
(lisastiously  to   tlio   expedition,  made   Savage  much 
work  ill  tlio  copious  correspondence  wh'ch  followed. 
Many  Callfornian  gold-seekers, on  their  reUirn, reached 
]labana  broken  in  health  and  without  means  to  ])ro- 
cced  fartlier  to  their  home  and  friends.     These  must 
bo  provided  for;  and  all  such  relief  came  out  of  the 
puekots  of- their  p.oorly  naid  countrymen  there  sta- 
tioned.    And  to  his  enduring  honor  be  it  said,  never 
(lid  distressed  stranger  appeal  to  him  in  vain.     While 
I.  a  green  boy  for  the  fir.st  time  fr(jm  home,  in   the 
spring  of  1852,  was  gazing  in  rapt  wonderment  about 
the  .^^treets  of  ITabana,  and  taking  in  my  fdl  of  the 
str.inge  sights,  !Mr  Savage  was  in  the  consulate  office 
engaged  in  his  duties,  each  oblivious,  so  far  as  the 
other  was  concerned,  of  the  present  and  the  pregnant 
I'll  tn  re. 

Prominent  men,  both  from  the  United  States  and 
^lexleo,  were  now  his  associates.  He  always  strongly 
opposed  the  slave-tradt.  When  the  war  for  the  union 
hinke  out  he  remained  kiithful  to  his  government, 
theugh  his  chief  was  an  active  secessionist.  One 
(lav  a  man  called  oa  Mr  Savaije  and  revealed  a  plot 
Ilitii  hatching  in  San  Francisco  to  capture  the  Paeilio 
Mail  'onipany's  steamer  at  Acapuleo.  At  another 
time  o;io  informed  him  of  a  ])lan  of  revolution  then 
luiiig  prepared  in  southern  Calilbrnia,  detailing  to 
iiiiu  how  much  of  money  each  cons])irator  had  sui>- 
scribed  in  suppoi't  of  the  scheme.  These  facts  were 
made  known  by  Savage  to  the  government  officials  at 

Lit,  Iso.   17 


258 


SOME  OF  MY  ASSISTANTS. 


Washington,  who  telegraphed  them  to  General  ^NIc- 
Dowell.  For  twenty  months  during  the  liottest  of 
the  war,  wliile  bhx-kade-running  from  Ilabana  to 
]\Iobi]e  and  other  southern  ports  was  of  almost  tiaily 
occurrence,  Mr  Savaixe  was  in  full  charge  of  the 
consulate  at  Ilabana.  Every  movement  adverse  to 
the  government  he  narrowly  watched  and  reported, 
and  the  capture  of  many  a  valuable  prize  was  due  di- 
rectly to  his  exertions.  For  which  service,  of  emi)(y 
thanks  he  received  abundance,  but  no  prize-money,  as, 
indeed,  he  was  not  entitled  to  any.  Neither  did  tlio 
government  remunerate  him  for  his  extra  service  and 
expenses,  though  to  that  he  was  justly  entitled. 

To  ^Ir  Savage  is  duo  the  credit  of  discovering  tlio 
plot  of  capturing  tlie  San  Francisco  treasure  steamer 
in  IRGt.  It  Wiis  to  be  effected  through  the  prior 
capture  of  the  Paiiamd  llailway  company's  steamer 
Giiatvmahi,  with  whicli,  when  taken,  the  conspiratoi-s 
were  to  lie  in  wait  for  tlio  treasure  steamer  boitint 
down,  from  San  Francisco  to  Panamd.  They  em- 
barked at  HaliaiKi,  where  many  schemes  of  this  kind 
were  concocted  requiring  the  utmost  care  of  the  consnl 
to  frustrate,  on  board  the  liritish  Ro^-al  Mail  steann  i- 
for  St  Thomas,  thence  to  go  to  Pananul  and  seize  tlw 
Guatemala. 

The  31st  of  DGceiid)er,  18G7,  Mr  Savage  retlr.d 
from  the  consulate  at  Ilabana,  poorer  by  the  Nx^s  ^'l' 
twent3'-one  laborious  3'ears  than  when  he  entered  it. 
After  spending  the  greater  part  of  18G8  in  the  Unili/'l 
States,  in  November  of  that  year  he  went  to  Panama 
and  edited  the  S|)anish  part  of  the  Star  and  ITerahi 
Likewise  for  a  time  while  at  Panama  he  acted  as 
consul  for  Guatemala.  At  Pananul,  in  1870,  In; 
married  his  second  wife,  a  most  charming  lady,  young, 
beautiful,  accomplished,  and  wealthy,  and  withal  tlc- 
votedly  attached  to  her  husband.  Soon  after  tluir 
marriage  a  disastrous  fire  swept  away  a  large  port  inn 
of  her  property. 

Mr  Savage   then   went  to  San  Salvador,  whore, 


FRANCES  FULLER  VICTOR. 


259 


after  teaching  and  writin*^  for  the  newspapers  for  a 
time,  be  was  appointed  United  States  consul.  Shortly 
iifterward  a  revohition  broke  out.  The  city  was  bar- 
lic.ided  and  threatened  with  an  attack.  The  United 
States  minister,  Torbert,  and  the  consul  lived  on  the 
same  street,  opposite  each  other.  Day  and  night  they 
kept  their  flags  flying,  and  at  times  their  houses  were 
lilli'd  with  refugees.  Finally  at  Santa  Ana  the  royn- 
liitionists  won  a  battle;  the  government  of  President 
]  )uefia8  fell  to  the  ground,  and  in  duo  time  order  was 
again  restored. 

The  climate  of  Salvador  did  not  agree  with  Mrs 
SavaLje.  A  sister  of  hers  died  there.  So  Mr  Savaijo 
(li'tonnined  to  try  Guatemala.  There  he  edited  a 
p;i]»er,  which  did  not  pay  expenses,  and  after  a  resi- 
dence of  eighteen  months,  he  determined  to  try  the 
(•(last  northward.  The  20th  of  March,  1 873,  he  arrived 
at  San  ]'>ancisco,  and  four  months  afterward  entered 
thi!  library. 

F(ir  many  3'ears  Mr  Savage  was  my  main  reliance 
o:.  Spanish-American  affairs.  All  my  chief  assistants 
Vv  T  ■  good  Spanish  scholars,  but  all  in  cases  of  doubt 
Mere  glad  to  refer  to  him  as  an  expert.  With  good 
scliolarslilp,  ripe  experience,  and  a  remarkable  knowl- 
edge of  general  history,  he  brought  to  the  library 
strong  literary  tastes,  a  clear  head,  and  methodi- 
iid  habits.  At  my  suggestion  he  prepared  for  The 
liineroft  Company  a  must  valuahle  work,  entitled 
th''  Spdtiisli-Arncricini  MuiiuaJ.  The  work  was  wi'it- 
ti'ii  lor  the  purpose  of  givitig  to  the  commenMal  world 
a  vast  amount  of  information  lying  hidden  under  tlu' 
toi'eigii  language  and  peculiar  custt)ms  of  the  peo[)le 
"i    Ijatin  America. 


Frances  Fuller  was  born  in  the  township  of  Kome, 
X<  w  York,  May  23,  182G,  and  educated  at  the  semi- 
nary in  Wayne  county,  Ohio,  whither  her  parents 
croloiig  removed.  Her  mother,  who  was  married  at 
fcixteun,  while  the  father  was  but  eighteen,   v  as  a 


':r.o 


SOME  OF  MY  ASSISTANTS. 


i.) 


11 


passlonato  lover  of  the  beautiful  in  nature  and  art. 

Given  the  parentage,  what  of  the  children'?  They 
had  for  their  inlieritance  pride  of  race,  susceptibility 
to  beauty,  intellectual  strength,  the  rhythmic  sense, 
and  good  pliysical  traits.  Out  of  these  they  shouLl 
without  doubt  evolve  that  temperament  which,  on 
account  of  its  excessive  sensibility,  we  call  the  poetic, 
ahhough  it  is  not  always  accompanied  by  the  poetic 
faculty  or  sense  of  numbers.  In  tliis  case,  however, 
of  five  girls  two  became  known  as  writers  of  both 
verse  and  prose,  and  a  third  of  prose  only. 

Frances  was  the  eldest  of  the  family,  and  was  but 
tliirteen  years  of  age  when  her  father  settled  Jti 
Wooster,  Ohio.  Her  education  after  that  was  de- 
rived from  a  course  in  a  young  ladies'  seminary,  no 
great  preparation  for  literary  work.  At  the  age  of 
fourteen  she  contributed  to  the  county  papers;  wlicn 
a  little  older,  to  the  Cleveland  Herald,  whicb  paid  iVi- 
her  poems,  some  of  which  were  copied  in  English 
journals.  Then  the  New  York  papers  sought  Ik  r 
contributions,  and  fin.-diy  she  wont  to  New  York  for  a 
year  to  become  acquainted  with  literary  people,  ami 
WMS  very  kindlv  treated — too  kindlv  she  tells  nie, 
l)oeaufio  they  persuaded  her  at  an  immature  age  to 
])uMish  a  volume  of  her  own  and  her  sisior  JMeUa s 
p(jems.  But  worse  things  were  in  store  than  this 
mistaken  kindness.  Just  at  the  tinu)  when  a  plan 
was  on  foot  to  make  the  tour  of  Eun^pe  v\ith  sonic 
iViends,  the  ill-health  of  her  motlier  recalled  her  to 
Ohio  and  the  end  of  all  her  dreams.  What  with 
nursing,  household  cares,  and  the  lack  of  sthiiulatiii; 
society,  life  began  to  look  very  real.  A  year  or  twti 
later  her  futlier  died,  and  there  was  still  more  real 
work  to  do,  for  now  there  must  be  an  effort  to  in- 
crease the  family  income  month  by  month.  lii  this 
struggle  !Metta  was  most  successful,  having  a  great 
fjicllity  of  invention,  and  being  a  rapid  writer,  and 
stori(^s  being  much  more  in  demand  than  poems 
brought    more    money.     Frances    possessed  a    widv.i' 


FRANCES  FULLER. 


2G1 


range  of  Intellectual  powers,  of  the  less  poriiular  be- 
cause more  solid  order.     The  sisters  were  twin  souls, 
and  very  happy  together,  "making  out,"  as  Charlotte 
JJioato  says,  the  plan  of  a  story  or  poem  by  thtir 
own  bright  fireside  in  winter,  or  under  the  delicious 
iii.Kiiilight  of  a  summer  evening  in  Oliio.     A  })osition 
\v;is  oH'ored  them  on  a  pei-iodieal  in  Detroit,  and  they 
nnioved  to  Michigan.     This  did  not  prove  rcnuuiera- 
tivc,  and  was  abandoned.     By  and  by  came  mania^e, 
and  the  histers  were  separated,  Metta  going  to  New 
York,  where  she   led  a  busy  lit'e.     Their  husbands 
wvrc  brotliers.     Frances  married  Henry  C.  Victor,  a 
liuval  (iugineer,  who  came  to  California  under  ordi-rs 
ill   lb(JO.     Mrs  Victor  accompanied  him,  stopping  a 
while  at  Acapulco,  where  tlie  Narragaitscit  to  which 
.Mr  Victor  was  ordered,  was  lying.     At  San  Fi-an- 
(isc'o,  she  found  the  government  paying  in  greenbacks. 
To  make  up  the  loss  of  income  something  must  be  done. 
So  she  wrote  for  the  JJaUtUa  city  editorials  and  a 
seiii.'S  of  society  articles,  undtir  the  nom  do  plume  of 
'■  Fl(jrence   Fane,"  which  were   continued  for  nearly 
two  years,  and  elicited  much   pleasant  comment  by 
ihtir  humorous  hits,  (!veu  the  revered  pioneers  not 
hoing  spared.     About  the  time  tlie  war  closed,  ]\i  r 
^  icior  resigned  and  went  to  Oregon,  where,  early  in 
1S('>5,   Mrs   Victor    followed    him,   and    was    (juickly 
'•ajitivated  by  the  novelty,  romance,  and  grandeur  of 
tlie  wonderful  north-west.     Her  letters  in  the  lUiUdi'^, 
uiticlcs  in  the  Overland  Jilonthh/,.  and  her  books,  AlJ 
over  Oregon  and  Washington  and  The  Ricer  of  iJic  Wcsi, 
with  other  writings,  show  how  cordially  siie  entered 
into  the  exploration  of  a  fresh  field,     la  1678  she  ac- 
<i'[»t('(l  a  hint  from  me,  and  came  readily  to  my  assist- 
a.'icc.  with  greater  enthusiasm  tiian  one  less  acquainted 
wi;li  her  subject  could  be  expected  t^»  feel.      In  abil- 
ity, conscientiousness,  and  never-ceasing  interc^5t  and 
iailhfuluess  Mrs  Victor  was  surpassed  by  none. 


Walter  M.  Fisher  and  T.  Arundel  llarcourt  came 


SOME  OF  MY  ASSISTANTS. 

to  tlio  lihiiiry  i>i  1872,  the  former  early  in  the  year, 
and  the  latter  in  November.  Albert  Goklsolimidt 
luui  been  at  ^vork  about  a  year  when  llarcourt  came. 
Fisher  was  the  son  of  an  Irish  clergyman;  llarcourt 
claimed  to  be  a  scion  of  the  Enf;lish  aristocracy;  whihi 
(jioldschmidt  was  of  German  extraction.  Fisher,  fresh 
from  college,  was  brought  in  by  a  fellow-countryman, 
the  Reverend  Hemphill,  and  set  to  woik  taking  out 
material  for  voyages.  He  applied  himself  clobcly, 
devoting  his  days  to  writing  and  his  nights  to  tin; 
study  of  languages  and  literatui-e.  Throughout  his 
college  course  he  had  paid  special  attention  to  litera- 
ture, and  now  he  determined  to  adoj)t  it  as  a  profes- 
sion. Probably  at  that  time  there  was  no  better 
school  for  him  in  the  world  in  which  to  make  rapid 
and  practical  advancement  in  his  I'avorito  literary  paths 
than  my  library.  For  although  the  work  therein 
was  in  one  sense  local,  yet  all  literary  work  of  any 
pretensions  must  be  in  some  res[)ccts  geneial,  and  the 
ex[)erience  he  obtained  while  with  me  was  invalu- 
able to  him.  And  this  he  was  ever  ready  to  acknowl- 
edge. In  a  book  entith.Hl  The  Ci'(///t»'>//a;/.s',  i)ublishe(I 
in  London  soon  after  his  return  to  the  old  country, 
wherein  men  and  tiiinijjs  here  were  somewhat  severeU' 
spoken  of,  all  his  references  to  the  library  and  to  the 
time  spent  there  were  of  the  most  cordial  and  [ileas- 
ing  character. 

Born  in  Ulster  in  1849,  he  used  to  call  himsell'  ;i 
'49er,  His  father  was  of  the  Scotch  presbyterian 
church,  and  tlie  family  were  mend)ers  of  a  Scotch  and 
Knglish  colony  "  in  the  Atlantic  Ocean  to  the  we-t 
of  C/eat  .Britain,"  as  the  son  said.  Indeed,  Fisher 
always  insisted  that  he  was  an  Fnglishman,  holding 
apparently  no  great  respect  for  the  Irish.  In  his  own 
religious  belief,  or  i.  'her  in  the  absence  of  any,  he 
was  (piite  liberal,  and  it  was  on  this  account,  as 
much  as  any  other,  that  he  originally  left  his  fathers 
bouse. 

After  the  tutors  and  pedagogues  came  three  years 


WALTER  M.  FISHER. 


203 


with  old  Doctor  Tiniotliy  Blaino  of  the  Royal  Aca- 
(I'lnR'al  institution  of  Uflfast,  whoso  lessons  and  lec- 
tures on  the  Eni^lish  laiiguaj^'o  and  its  literature  were 
then  as  novel  in  middle-class  schools  as  they  were 
niasteily  and  attractive  in  themselves.  Fisher  was 
jiinoiig  his  favorite  ])U|)ils.  After  that  he  nuitricu- 
],iled  in  the  (,)ueen's  university,  attending  lectures 
(uiiiKX'ted  witli  that  institution  at  J  Belfast.  Tlie  col- 
le^i!  library,  however,  did  nioi'e  for  him  than  all  the 
Iretures,  and  there  he  was  so  sedulous  a  student  that 
his  pi-ofcssors  often  looked  in  vain  for  him  on  their 
h(  iK'lies. 

University  patlis  he  saw,  in  duo  time,  were  not  his. 
Old-time  ways  by  ruh'  and  rote  he  could  neither  j)r«)- 
I'l'ss,  pi-caeh,  nor  ])ractise;  so  he  went  to  liondon,  and 
tlience  to  Paris — boohs,  books,  books,  beinfj^  ever  the 
substance  of  his  dreams.  The  French  war  upsetting 
his  plans,  he  returned  to  Loudon.  There,  one  day, 
h  '  picked  up  a  book  in  the  British  ^[useuin  on  the 
subject  of  California,  and  before  he  laid  it  down  the 
drteiinination  was  on  him.  lie  packed  his  books, 
;iud  in  Di.'cember  187!  steamed  out  of  Ijiveipool  with 
a  ticket  in  his  pocket-book  marked  San  Francisco. 
Two  days  after  his  arrival  he  was  at  work  in  the  li- 

hlillT. 

Toward  the  close  of  1875  he  returned  to  London, 
]n'()p()sing  between  London  and  Paris  to  spend  his 
(l.ivs  doini^:  such  work  in  literature  as  he  found  to  do; 
"lojiio-  it,  as  he  says  of  it  himself,  "better  every  way, 
I  Ixdievo,  for  the  sun  of  California,  for  the  fellowship 
and  labors  we  had  together  there,  and  for  the  loves 
thi  le  born.  Oh,  the  grand  days  we  had,  warm  with 
li"|)e  and  stroiiij  with  endurance!  If  no  man  saAs  it, 
1  dare  to  say  it,  there  have  been  lesser  heroes  than 
wo,  up  on  that  lil'th  lloor  in  a  San  Francisco  book- 
shop, fighting  against  the  smiles  of  the  children  of 
iMaiiniion  and  of  Belial,  lighting  alone,  modest  and 
Sill  ;it,  each  of  us  'travaillant  pour  son  coeur,  laissant 
a  iJieu  le  resto.'" 


264 


SOME  OF  MY  ASSISTANTS. 


.<  5 


!   i 


Goldschmidt  was  a  pleasant,  social  man,  of  no  very 
pronounced  parts,  in  ago  about  thirtN'-five,  given  to 
ease  and  quietness  rather  tlian  to  pliysical  exertion  or 
hard  study.  He  made  himself  familiar  with  tln^ 
books  of  the  library,  and  was  apt  and  useful  in  many 
ways.  There  was  scarcely  any  language  with  wliich 
we  had  to  do  but  that  he  would  decipher  it  after  a 
fashion.  Old  Dutch  was  his  delight.  ^lany  of  thos(; 
sixteenth-century  writers  done  into  the  purest  and 
best  Enjjlish  are  nieaninulcss  enough,  some  of  tin  in 
in  places  absolutely  unintelligible,  any  one  of  hall"  ;i 
dozen  constructions  being  equally  applicable  to  tin- 
words;  and  yet  Goldschmidt  was  never  so  hap[ty  as 
when  seated  before  a  table  full  of  those  works,  in 
various  languages,  and  written  from  widely  dideroiit 
standpoints  by  authors  oceatis  asunder,  with  ])lontyiif 
time  at  his  command,  enga<;ed  in  the  work  of  recoucil- 
ing  their  jargon. 

Harcourt,  as  ho  called  himself,  said  that  ho  was 
born  in  London  in  1851;  that  his  father  was  a  gen- 
tleman of  old  family  and  considerable  property,  wliidi 
was  slightly  increased  by  marriage  with  a  lady  of  high 
birth;  and  that  when  eight  years  old  his  mother  died, 
and  then  for  the  first  time  he  was  sent  to  scImh.I. 
Possessed  of  quick  perceptions,  he  might  easily  liasi' 
outstripped  his  i'ellows  in  learning;  indeed,  at  theei:i! 
of  his  first  half-year  he  carried  home  the  prize  i'nr 
superior  attainments  in  Latin.  But  in  those  days  it 
was  not  the  fashion  for  aristocratic  l)oys  to  study. 
The  hard  workers  were  poor  weaklings, casil3'-thraslied ; 
creatures  to  be  despised,  s[)at  upon;  beings  expressly 
contrived  by  nature  to  be  used,  to  bo  punched  into 
writing  the  verses  of  their  superiors  in  station, streiigt  li, 
and  laziness.  lEe  to  whom  the  mysteries  of  daet\  I 
and  spondee  were  plain  as  a  pikestaff,  whom  the  tv- 
rors  of  Xenophon  could  not  ap|)al,  stood  at  the  heid 
of  the  row,  ]ude,  weak,  and  'lickable'  to  ev(>ry  olln  r 
boy  in  the  class.     The  winning  of  a  jirize  at  th<;  out- 


■f't 


HARCOURT  AND  PEATFIELD. 


265 


o  very 
vcn  to 
tioii  or 
th  tho 
\  111.1  iiy 
Avhicli 
after  ;i 

if  tllO!S(^ 

'.«t  anil 

f  th.'iii 

half  :i 

to  til.' 
appy  as 
)rUs,  in 
liilcront 
lentv'if 
•ccoucil- 


he  wns 

s  a  ;j;'Mi 
,',  wliirli 
of  lii;j,li 
or  (lifd, 
sc1m'"1. 
ly  liav-' 
1hL'oi:(! 
ri/.e  I'lf 
(lays  it 
»  stii'lv. 
raslicd; 
pressly 
led  int') 
|ron;4tIi. 
daVtvl 
Ihe  tcr- 
\\c  In-iil 
■y  otli'T 
|hi'  ollL- 


set  of  Ills  school  career  hy  the  youth  Ilarcourt  was  a 
mistake  wliich  he  took  care  never  again  to  repeat,  so 
<,Tcatly  was  ho  chagrined  as  he  pressed  liis  way  hack 
t(»  liis  place  amidst  mutterings  of  'craimner,'  'little 
Utind,'  and  like  epithets  significant  of  the  cunteiupt 
ill  which  he  was  held  hy  his  fellows. 

A  voyage  to  India  was  i'ollowed  hy  a  term  at  a 
(Jcrniau  university,  and  after  that  the  young  man 
(Iril'ted  to  California,  and  entered  the  lil)rary  in  1873. 
He  later  engaged  in  newspaper  work,  and  died  in  1884 
at  San  Francisco. 

A  strong  man,  and  one  of  talent,  was  J.  J.  Peatfleld, 
lioin  in  Nottinghamshire,  England,  August  20,  18r>:). 
liis  father,  a  conservative  tory  clergyman,  educated 
liim  lor  the  church,  lie  took  his  decree  at  Camhiidge 
ill  18j7,  having  graduated  in  the  classical  tripos.  The 
eliureh  heing  distasteful  to  him  as  a  profession,  he 
obtained  a  tutorship,  with  occasional  travel,  the  last 
jKvsiiion  of  the  kind  being  in  a  llusslan  family  in  St 
iM(;rsl)urg. 

I  'entlield  was  now  twenty-nine  years  of  age.  and  the 
life  he  was  leading  did  not  satisl'y  him.  He  deter- 
mined to  emiixrate.  The  tjold  discoveries  in  British 
('oliimbia  attracted  his  attention;  and  while  he  was 
tliiiiking  of  going  thither,  a  college  friend  |)resented 
the  llatterlng  prospects  of  gains  to  be  derived  from 
(ukivatinix  cacao  on  the  Atlantic  seaboard  of  Central 
Aincriea,  and  he  finally  concluded  to  make  the  latter 
Vfiiture.  Taking  jiassage  on  board  the  steamship 
Xcr^i'Kiian  to  Portland,  Maine,  he  proceeded  thence 
l>y  rail  to  New  York,  and  after  a  fortnight's  stay  there 
he  went  to  (Jreytown,  Nicaragua,  in  the  schooner 
ticciye  S.  Adams. 

The  cacao-planting  enterprise  was  a  failure.  The 
cultivation  of  the  tree  had  been  tried  there  without 
success  years  before,  both  by  AnuM'leans  and  l]urope- 
aiis.  Nevertheless  ho  remained  in  that  vicinity  Ibr 
two  years,  locating  himself  on  the  Serapique    river. 


SOME  OF  MY  ASSISTANTS. 


nil  nfllucnt  in  Costa  Rican  turiiti)ry  of  the  San  Juan, 
lie  tried  cotton-rai.siiij^,  as  ilio  price  was  very  hi L;h 
tluiiii;,^  the  eivil  war  in  tlio  United  States,  Init  the 
excessive  rains  destroyed  the  cro|».  He  then  tried, 
likewise,  cncao  and  eoflee.  Ila|)id  and  luxuriant 
growth  attended  evoy  experiment,  hut  the  flowers  of 
the  cacao-tree  dropped  off  without  fructifyinjr;  thu 
cotton  rotted  in  the  bolls;  the  coffee  berries  did  not 
ripen. 

As  there  was  nothing  to  sta}''  for  but  the  fever  and 
ague,  which  he  did  not  want,  about  the  middle  of 
18G5  ^Tr  Peatfield  crossed  the  sierra  to  San  Jose, 
tile  capital  of  Costa  Rica.  He  there  accepted  tlit3 
situation  of  book-keeper  in  a  mercantile  cstal)lisli- 
nieiit.  In  January  18G8  he  was  appointed  clerk  ami 
translator  to  the  legation  at  (Juateniala,  and  two 
vears  later,  on  the  de})arture  of  ^linister  Corbett  lor 
England,  Peatfield  was  a[)poliited  British  vice-consul 
in  (jiuateniala.  Upon  the  death  of  Consul  Wallis,  of 
Costa  JV\ci\,  in  whose  charL^e  the  lejjation  had  l)eeii 
left,  Peatfield  received  from  the  foreign  oflice,  Loiido!i, 
the  appointment  of  acting  consul-general  of  Centml 
America.  After  that  ho  held  the  C(insulshi[)  of 
Guatimala  for  a  time.  Then  his  health  began  to 
fail,  and  at  the  end  of  1871  ho  resigned  and  left 
Gualeniala  for  San  Francisco,  where  he  arrived  in 
November. 

A  winter  of  teaching  was  followed  by  a  hcmot- 
rliago  from  which  he  barely  recovered.  In  August 
1872  he  obtainecl  a  lucrative  position  as  book-keeper 
and  cashier  of  a  mine  owned  by  an  English  com[)aiiy 
in  White  Pine,  Nevada.  His  engagement  coneluili>il, 
he  went  to  Piochc,  where  sickness  soon  reduced  liini 
to  poverty.  For  ten  weeks  he  lay  in  the  hosiiital 
suffering  intensely  with  inflammatory  rheumatism, 
much  of  the  time  unable  to  move,  and  occasionally  in- 
sensible. One  day,  on  recovering  consciousness,  ho 
was  told  by  the  physician  that  he  could  not  live; 
nevertheless  he  slowly  recovered.     Then  he  taught 


BATES  AXD  KKMP. 


nai 


school  a  while;  after  which  ho  returned  to  San 
Fiancisco,  wlicre  lie  nearly  died  fi'oni  pneuiuoiiia. 
lIcCDvery  was  lollowed  l»y  another  period  of  teaching 
niid  l)ook-lveeping,  until  February  1881,  v.licn  ho 
filtered  the  Hhrury,  and  soon  bocanio  one  of  my 
most  valued  assistants. 


Alfred  Bates,  a  native  of  Leeds,  Enijland,  entered 
the  liljrary  after  two  years'  work  on  llie  Gnnmore 
II  11(1  Ii)diist)'ics  of  the  Pacijlc  Coast,  under  its  editor, 
Jolin  S.  Ilittell.  Mr  Bates  displayed  the  niostahilltv 
(if  any  one  of  ^ir  Hittc^ll's  dozen  assistants,  and  was 
a  vahiahle  acquisition  to  my  corps  of  workers.  lEo 
was  born  the  4th  of  May,  1840,  Ids  father  buiiii;  a 
v,()()l-stai)ler,  who  made  a  fortune  during  the  railway 
excitement  of  1845-G,  and  had  the  misfortune  to  lose 
it  in  the  panic  of  1847. 

Alfred  recollects  of  his  childhood  that  ho  was  ovcr- 
ui'i'wn,  weak,  and  always  huni;ry.  At  the  a'jfc  of  lif- 
Iren  years  he  earned  his  own  livelihood  by  teaching, 
fiiuong  other  placets  in  INrarlborough  college,  at  the 
tluH^  the  clean  of  Westi.ninstcr  being  heatl-master,  and 
t'>  whom  he  was  private  secretary  in  18G2.  While 
I'lN  pariiig  for  Cambi'idge  the  following  year,  he  ac- 
<  ('I lied  a  lucrative  situation  in  Sidney,  New  South 
\\  ales.  Though  his  life  there  was  by  no  means  an 
unJKijtjty  one,  he  suflered  from  ill  health,  being  given 
II j I  for  dead  at  one  time  by  three  doctors.  Ind(>ed, 
!ihiiiinti(ni  was  totally  suspended  for  a  time;  and  when 
the  s]tark  of  lifi;  revived,  supposing  at  the  first  that 
l:i'  was  really  dead,  he  says  the  sensation  was  by  no 
means  disagreeable. 

Invited  by  his  brother  to  come  to  California  and 
take  charge  of  a  school,  he  made  the  passage  by  the 
f'tKiiif/,  the  first  year  after  his  arrival  being  occupied 
ill  leachiniT. 

Alfred  Kemp,  a  most  worthy  man  and  earnest 
w  u];or,  was  born  in  October  1847,  in  England,   liia 


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23  W»T  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTEO.Y.  >^S80 

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268 


SOME  OF  MY  ASSISTANTS. 


|i     *  : 


father  being  a  landed  proprietor  in  Kent.  Alfred  was 
educated  fur  the  army  at  a  military  school  near  Wool- 
wich; but  his  father  losing  most  of  his  property,  the 
young  man  was  (.>bligod  to  al>andon  his  contemplated 
career.  In  18G9  he  went  to  France  to  learn  tlie  lan- 
guage, but  the  war  with  Germany  breaking  out,  he 
returned  to  England,  narrowly  escaping  the  siege 
After  a  clerkship  from  1871  to  1874  in  a  commission 
house,  he  engaged  in  business  on  his  own  account, 
but  making  a  loss  of  it,  he  came  to  California  with  liis 
wife  and  daughter,  and  in  1883  he  joined  my  corps 
of  laborers  at  the  liljrary. 

Edward  P.  Newkirk,  a  native  of  New  York  state, 
after  passing  an  academical  course,  spent  one  year  at 
Fort  jNIonroe  artillery  school,  four  years  in  a  bank, 
then  joined  the  army  in  18G1  and  fought  for  tin; 
union  until  18G5,amon<ic  other  service  ooing  throuijh 
the  peninsular  campaign  with  ]McClellan,  and  through 
the  campaigns  of  Sherman  resulting  in  the  cajjturo 
of  Atlanta  and  Savannah;  was  twice  wounded,  and 
reached  the  nmk  of  captain.  From  November  1800 
to  November  1872  he  served  in  Washinti'ton  C'itv, 
Fort  Delaware,  and  other  stations.  At  the  date  Ja>t 
mentioned  he  accompanied  a  detachment  of  his  regi- 
ment to  California,  and  after  a  stay  of  two  weeks  at 
the  presidio  of  San  Francisco,  two  of  the  batteries 
were  ordered  to  Alaska. 

Newkirk  landed  at  Sitka  in  the  midst  of  a  blinding 
December  snow-storm,  after  a  rough  passage  of  two 
weeks  by  steam.  After  three  years  of  monotonous 
frontier  life,  during  which  the  arrival  of  the  monthly 
mail  or  some  small  trading-vessel  was  tlie  chief  cMiit, 
he  retired  from  the  service  and  returned  to  San 
Francisco.  Not  satisfied  with  what  he  had  seen  of^ 
Alaska,  he  joined  an  ai'ctic  expedition  in  pursuit  et 
walrus,  antl  found  himself  at  midniglit,  on  the  -Ith  et 
July,  187(5,  standing  on  a  cake  of  ice  with  the  sun  in 
full  view.      The  vessel  rounded  Point  Barrow,  siiikd 


1 1£ 


NEWKIRK  AND  COPrr.RTIIWAITE. 


2Ca 


two  days  cast,  was  driven  back  by  fogs  and  ice,  and 
while  soekiny;  more  lavorablo  urounds  had  her  rudder 
crushed  by  an  ice-cake,  which  compelled  her  captain 
to  seek  a  sheltered  cove  for  repairs.  What  appeared 
a  snug  harbor  was  chosen,  but  it  proved  the  vessel's 
tomb.  Nt)  sooner  had  the  repairs  been  conqileted, 
tliati  wliilc  the  l>arty  wvrv  confident  of  an  easy  escape 
tVniii  these  iidiospitable  regions,  a  large  ici^bcig 
grounded  directly  in  the  mouth  of  the  co\e,  shutting 
Ihu  vessel  in.  ¥ov  two  weeks  or  more  a  close  watch 
was  ke[)t  in  the  hope  that  a  change  of  wind  might 
unlock  the  prison-door;  but  it  came  not,  and  the 
iiartv,  abandoninijf  their  vessel,  with  hastilv  con- 
^tructed  sledges  drew  their  provisions  several  miles  to 
open  water,  where  they  were  picked  up  by  the  boats 
of  a  returning  w'haler.  On  reaching  San  Francisco, 
]\[r  Xewkirk  worked  for  a  year  or  so  with  ]\rr  Ilittell 
on  Commerce  and  Industries,  and  then  entered  the 
liiirary. 

Thomas  Matthew  Copperthwaitc,  born  in  Dublin  in 
1S4S,  began  his  education  in  London,  and  thence  pro- 
ceeded to  Belgium  in  1850,  where  he  entered  the 
college  of  La  Sainto  Trinitd  at  Louvain,  following  in 
thai  institution  the  classical  course,  and  at  the  same 
time  gaining  a  practical  knowledge  of  French  and 
Spanish. 

1  [Is  father  about  this  time  losing  his  fortune,  the 
i^on  was  obliged  to  discontinue  his  studies  and  earn  his 
livelihood.  lie  went  next  to  Berlin  and  engagc<l  witli 
a  furniture  manufacturing  conipauv,  remaining  there 
till  1SG8,  meanwhile  learnincf  German.  Then  he  en- 
tered  a  conunission  house  in  Paris,  and  in  1800  came 
(e  California,  where  he  obtained  emplo^^mcnt  in  a  mill 
and  milling  company  near  Georgetown,  and  subse- 
•  liuntly  for  a  time  was  teller  in  the  Colusa  County 
l)aiik. 


y" 


Li  1872  Mr  Copperthwaitc  bought  a  tract  of  land, 
iiig  ill  debt  for  part,  and  finally  losing  the  whole  of 


270 


SOME  OF  MY  ASSISTANTS. 


1    ^l    u 


it.  In  1875  ho  became  a  naturalized  citizen  of  the 
United  States,  being  repnUican  in  politics.  It  wa.s 
thought  that  El  Paso  M'ould  become  a  great  railroail 
centre,  and  thither,  after  leaving  the  bank,  Mr  Cop- 
porthwaite  went,  but  only  in  time  to  be  attacked  by 
malarial  fever,  which  nearly  took  his  life  away.  His 
p]l3^sician  recommended  his  return  to  California, 
where,  his  health  being  in  due  time  restored,  ho  went 
to  work  in  the  libiary. 

Ivan  Pctroff,  born  near  St  Petersburg  in  1842,  was 
of  great  assistance  to  me  in  preparing  Russian  ma- 
terial for  the  history  of  Alaska,  and  of  the  Russian 
colony  at  Fort  Ross,  in  California.  For  one  so  lately 
and  so  thoroughly  a  l^ussian,  he  had  a  I'cmark.aMc  coiii- 
mand  of  Ensj^lisli.  He  was  likewise  a  o^ood  dran-jhts- 
man,  and  made  for  me  many  surveys  and  ])lans,  also 
visiting  Alaska  and  Washington  in  search  of  histor- 
ical  matter. 

His  life  before  entering  my  service  was  briefly  as  fol- 
lows: The  son  of  a  soldier,  and  losing  his  mother  in 
inl'ancy,  at  the  age  of  five  he  was  placed  in  the  edu- 
cational estal>lishment  of  the  first  corps  of  cadets  in 
St  Petersburg  to  prepare  for  a  military'  career.  At 
the  battle  of  Inkerman  his  father  was  killed,  and  as 
the  boy  displayed  a  wonderful  faculty  for  the  acquisi- 
tion of  languages,  he  was  transferred  to  the  depait- 
nient  of  oiiental  languages  of  the  imperial  academy 
of  sciences  for  training  as  military  interpreter.  An 
impediment  of  speech,  the  result  of  serious  and  pro- 
longed illness,  put  an  end  to  the  proposed  career,  Imt 
the  y^Huig  orphan  was  permitted  to  continue  liis 
studies  in  the  oriental  department,  first  serving  as 
amanuensis  to  Professor  Bohttink  during  his  labors 
connected  with  the  puljlieation  of  a  Sanskrit  dictioib 
ary.  Subsequently  he  was  attached  to  another  mem- 
ber of  the  academy,  M.  Brosset,  engaged  at  that  period 
in  the  study  of  Armenian  antiquities  and  literatniv, 
during  which  time  he  became  so  proficient  in  the  luu- 


ffi 


IV AX  PETROFF. 


271 


guage  that  lie  Wcas  cliosen  by  !^^.  Bropsct  to  nceoin- 
paiiy  liiiii  on  a  voyage  of  scientific  exiiloration  through 
the  ancient  kingdoms  of  Georgia  and  Armenia. 

Ileturned  from  tliis  expedition,  which  occupied  two 
years,  PctrofT  was  sent  with  part  of  the  maici-ial 
there  obtained  to  St  Ililaire  at  Paris,  to  assist  hlni 
ill  a  proposed  work  on  American  antiquities;  but  St 
Ililaire  not  being  at  that  time  ready  to  continue  liis 
libors,  Pctroff  determined  to  sec  more  of  the  wide 
world,  and  so  in  the  midsummer  18G1  set  sail  for  New 
York. 

So  little  attention  had  he  hitherto  given  to  the 
Enulish  lanixnaGre,  that  on  landing  he  could  scarcely 
iiiako  himself  understood.  After  a  tem})orary  en- 
gagement on  the  Couricv  dcs  Etats  Unis,  he  joined  the 
union  army,  and  by  hard  study  was  soon  so  far  master 
ef  the  language  as  to  be  able  to  write  it  easily  and 
cnirectly,  often  writing  letters  for  the  soldiers  as  a 
means  of  practice. 

First  private,  then  corporal,  then  he  l)ecamc  ser- 
geant and  culor-bearer,  which  rank  he  held  when  in 
18G4  the  company  to  which  he  belonged,  the  Seventh 
Xew  Hampshire,  was  sent  to  Florida.  Pet rotf  took 
}iin't  in  all  the  battles  fought  by  Butler's  army,  and 
was  twice  wounded.  After  the  capture  of  Fort  Fisher 
he  was  made  lieutenant. 

Satisfied  that  Alaska  would  one  day  become  the 
property  of  the  United  States,  when  mustered  out  of 
service  in  July  18G5  he  returned  to  New  York  and 
made  a  five  years'  encjaijement  with  the  Russian- 
American  company  to  act  as  English  and  German 
cnirespondent  in  the  company's  ofHce  at  Sitka.  De- 
laved  en  route  at  San  Francisco,  he  thoucjht  to  im- 
prove  the  time  by  making  a  horseback  tour  through 
iierthern  California,  Idaho,  Washington,  and  Oregon, 
ill  which  he  narrowly  escaped  death  at  the  hands  of  a 
l)and  of  Shoshones,  in  encountering  which  his  horso 
was  killed  and  he  wounded  in  the  arm.  When  lu 
reached  Sitka  he  found  his  place  in  the  office  filled; 


■:'SJ 


m 


272 


SOME  OF  MY  ASSISTANT??. 


but  he  was  given  charge  of  a  trading  post  at  Cof)k 
inlet,  which  position  he  held  until  the  transfer  of  the 
territory,  when  he  went  to  Kodiak  island  and  was 
appointed  acting  custom-house  officer  to  take  charge 
of  the  barkcntine  Constitution,  which  had  been  seized, 
and  with  that  vessel  he  arrived  in  San  Francisco  in 
October  1870,  and  entered  the  library  almost  im- 
mediately afterward. 

William  J.  Carr  and  John  H.  Gilmour  were  two 
young  Englishmen  of  fine  education  and  ability,  in- 
troduced by  Hall  McAllister.  The  latter  had  spent 
most  of  his  life  in  India,  and  was  employed  for  several 
years  in  the  library. 

Charles  Welch  was  born  and  educated  in  San  Fran- 
cisco, perhaps  the  only  native  Californian  among  all 
my  Avorkers.  Though  but  a  boy  when  he  came  to 
the  library,  he  soon  made  himself  a  useful  member  of 
tbo  corps,  doing  most  faithfully  and  efficiently  what- 
ever was  given  him  to  do.  For  several  years  Iiis 
duties  w-ere  those  of  what  might  be  termed  an  assist- 
ant librarian,  a  place  that  was  by  no  means  a  sineenro, 
and  that  could  hardly  have  been  better  filled  than  by 
Welch.  He  was  subsequently  transferred  to  our  mer- 
cantile establishment,  in  which  for  many  years  he 
held  a  responsible  position. 

W.  H.  Benson  was,  in  a  sense,  the  successor  of 
Welch  in  the  work  of  keeping  the  library  in  ordec, 
attending  to  various  and  complicated  details  in  tlio 
routine  of  extracting  material,  and  the  catalogiiiiin" 
of  new  matter  that  was  constantly  swelling  the  bulk 
of  the  collection.  He  was  an  Englishman  of  goml 
education,  whose  experience  had  been  marked  by  the 
usual  routine  of  adventurous  wanderings.  Benson 
was  an  intelligent  man,  a  hard  worker,  a  fine  penman, 
and  altogether  a  faithful  and  useful  assistant;  but 
consumption  had  marked  him  for  its  victim,  and  he 
died  in  1884.  The  duties  of  his  position  were  subrfo- 
quently  performed  by  Newkirk  and  Kemp. 


BOWMAN,  GALAN,  SIMPSON. 


293 


;  at  CodIv 
ifer  of  til 0 
and  was 
,ko  charge 
;en  seized, 
•anciscd  iu 
Imost  iiu- 

werc  two 
ability,  in- 
had  spoilt 
for  several 


San  Fran- 
among  all 
tie  came  to 
L  member  of 
cntly  what- 
|1  years  liis 
d  an  assist- 
a  sinecure, 
ed  than  by 
;o  our  iiier- 
y  years  he 

successor  of 
ry  in  order, 
tails  in  the 
cataloguing- 
the  bulk 
an  of  gootl 
ked  by  the 
■s.     Benson 
Iric  pennmn, 
blstant;  but 
lim,  and  bo 
Iwere  subso- 


Amos  Bowman  was  a  stenographer  of  scientific  at- 
tainments, with  some  experience  in  government  sur- 
veys and  mining  explorations,  who  first  aided  me  in 
my  northern  tour  of  investigation,  and  later,  for  a 
brief  jieriod,  in  library  work.  Harry  Larkin  was  an 
English  adventurer  of  good  abilities,  many  accomplish- 
nu  iits,  and  an  adventurous  career,  which  was  termi- 
nated by  his  murder  in  California. 

There  was  a  class  of  men  who  possessed  decided 
talents  in  some  directions,  but  whose  lack  of  ability 
as  applied  to  my  work  it  took  me  some  time  to  dis- 
cover. There  was  Galan,  formerly  governor  of  Lower 
California,  and  Paton,  an  Irish  captain  who  had  seen 
service  in  India. 

Galan  was  in  some  respects  a  singular  character. 
He  undertook  to  practise  law  in  San  Francisco,  but 
was  ui.able  to  sustain  himself  He  was  a  middle-aged 
man,  medium  height,  dark-skinned,  with  a  handsome 
face  and  a  quick,  clear,  bright,  intelligent  eye.  Ho 
conversed,  not  only  fluently,  but  eloquently  and  learn- 
edly, on  almost  any  topic  concerning  Mexican  or  Cen- 
tral American  affairs,  at  any  epoch  of  their  history, 
whicb  might  be  started  ;  but  let  him  undertake  i)racti- 
cal  ;iii(l  exact  work,  and  his  powers  failed  him. 

Thus  it  will  1)0  seen  that  althouijfli  mv  assistants 
were  of  marked  and  diversified  abilities,  I  had  not 
at  my  command  at  all  times  tlie  best  material  for  my 
pui'iiose.  On  the  whole,  my  tools  were  not  of  the  lat- 
est anil  best  pattern;  and  though  this  was  no  fault  of 
theirs,  it  threw  the  whole  burden  and  responsibility 
nil  me,  where  it  remained  from  first  to  last,  even  my 
b'st  and  most  eflScient  assistants  being  able  to  prove 
u|)  tbc  correctness  of  but  a  portion  of  the  work,  leav- 
iiiii;  mc  to  do  the  rest  as  best  I  was  able. 

Of  Enrique  Cerruti,  Murray,  and  some  others,  I 
say  enough  elsewhere.  I  might  make  mention  of 
scores  of  others,  each  of  whom  had  his  history,  more 
or  less  eventful,  more  or  less  strange.     There   was 

Lit.  I.vs.    18 


274 


SOME  OF  MY  ASSISTANTS. 


' 


Samuel  L.  Simpson,  who  came  down  from  Oregon 
and  edited  the  Pacific  coast  readers  for  the  fiini ;  a 
young  man  of  rare  ability,  though  lacking  somewhat 
in  steady  application. 

There  were  many  of  Spanish  and  Mexican  origin, 
not  half  of  whose  names  I  ever  knew.  IMonth  alter 
month  they  plodded  more  or  less  diligently  along,  as 
part  of  the  great  combination,  directed  perha[)s  by 
Savage,  Oak,  or  Nemos,  and  drawing  their  pay  every 
Saturday. 

Of  these,  Vicente  P.  Gomez  was  one.  A  native  of 
Mexico,  he  came  to  California  when  a  child,  was  s(.iit 
back  to  be  educated,  and  came  again  with  General 
Micheltorena.  His  father  was  a  merchant  and  a 
ranchero  here,  and  held  an  office  under  government. 
The  elder  Gomez  built  the  only  sea-going  vessel  the 
Spaniards  ever  attempted  on  the  California  shore. 
Launches  and  lighters  they  had  built,  and  the  Tlus- 
sians  had  constructed  small  craft,  but  no  Hispano- 
Californian  before  or  since.  It  was  only  twenty  and 
a  half  tons  burden,  and  was  called  Peor  es  Nadu, 
"nothinij  would  be  worse,"  from  which  namino;  one 
would  think  the  owner  was  not  very  proud  of  it. 
The  younger  Gomez  had  a  wonderful  memory,  suji- 
plcmented  with  broad  inventive  faculties,  with  line 
conversational  powers,  and  a  fund  of  anecdote.  Ho 
wrote  a  beatitiful  hand,  and  spoke  the  most  graceful 
Spanish  of  any  man  in  California.  He  was  the  Victor 
of  Bret  Harte's  Story  of  a  Mine. 

Besides  laboring  long  and  faithfully  at  the  sur- 
veyor's office  extracting  material  from  the  archives, 
he  accompanied  Mr  Savage  to  Santa  Clara,  Salinas, 
Monterey,  and  Santa  Cruz,  on  the  same  mission. 
He  copied  from  the  archives  at  all  these  places,  and 
knowing  everybody,  he  was  able  to  secure  much  out- 
side information  of  early  times.  But  further  and  far 
more  important  than  all  this  was  the  manuscript  vol- 
ume of  430  pages  of  his  own  reminiscences.  While 
extracting  material  for  history,  or  in  conversation, 


MEXICAN  WORKERS. 


273 


v.hcrever  ho  happened  to  be,  whenever  recollections 
arose  in  his  mind  wc  had  a  man  ready  to  take  them 
down.  It  was  singular  how  it  worked.  lie  could 
extract  material  well  enough,  but  if  left  to  write  his 
(iwn  experiences  ho  would  never  do  it,  but  he  could 
talk  fluently  of  his  past,  so  that  another  could  easily 
write  from  his  dictation.  After  the  work  of  copying 
i'loui  the  archives  was  finished  he  was  put  to  work  in 
the  library,  and  definite  topics  given  him  to  write 
IVoni  his  own  knowledge,  and  in  this  way  he  suc- 
ceeded quite  well,  and  the  result  was  the  manu- 
script volume  before  mentioned,  a  most  magniliccsnt 
contribution  to  the  historical  literature  of  this  coast, 
and  invaluable  because  it  contains  much  knowleduo 
nowhere  else  found,  and  which  but  for  this  method 
would  have  been  forever  lost. 

riosendo  V.  Corona  was  another  good  man.  lie 
was  a  native  of  Topic,  INIexieo,  and  cousin  of  the  ^lexi- 
can  minister  at  Madrid.  Educated  as  a  civil  engineer 
at  Guadalajara,  he  came  hither  to  pei'fect  his  education 
and  obtain  employment.  lie  assisted  in  extracting 
material  at  the  archbishop's  library,  and  accompanied 
Savage  and  Gomez  to  Santa  Clara  and  the  southern 
coast. 

Emilio  Pina,  a  native  of  Chihuahua,  was  the  son  of 
a  distinguished  jurist.  lie  was  employed  in  the  li- 
brary and  at  several  of  the  missions  copying  and  ex- 
tracting material,  before  which  time  he  was  engageti 
as  editor,  schoolmaster,  and  in  the  public  service  in 
^Mexico. 

Labadie  was  a  native  of  Mexico,  of  French  parent- 
age, and  educated  in  France.  While  there  the  war 
broke  out,  and  he  entered  the  army  against  Germany, 
going  in  a  private  and  coming  out  a  sergeant,  lie 
was  iincly  educated,  being  among  other  things  a  good 
painter  and  musician.  In  tlie  mines  of  Mexico  ho 
took  the  fever,  and  came  to  California  for  health  and 
improvement. 
Manuel  Fernandez  Martinez  was  more  French  than 


;:8 


SOME  OP  MY  ASSISTANTS. 


S]\inish  in  appearance.  Sorcini  was  an  educated 
!^icxican  with  an  Italian  father.  Eldridgc  was  a 
native  Peruvian  witii  an  American  father.  He  cainu 
to  Cahfornia  in  1849,  bringing  a  ship  with  him  hiduii 
with  merchandise,  but  wliicli  was  lost,  vessel  and  cargo. 
He  was  translator  of  the  laws  of  California  from  Eng- 
lish into  Spanish  for  several  years,  and  had  a  brotlicr 
also  employed  in  the  library. 

Martin  Barientos,  born  in  Chili,  boasted  his  pure 
Araucanian  blood,  being  of  that  race  of  aborigimils 
who  were  never  conquered.  He  was  a  skilful  pen- 
man, did  some  illuminated  title-pages  beautifully,  and 
could  turn  his  hand  to  almost  anything,  being  a 
printer,  writer,  and  singer.  Indeed,  he  came  to  Cali- 
fornia from  South  America  as  one  of  a  French  opera- 
bouifc  company,  and  often  appeared  upon  the  stage 
here. 

Among  my  stenographers  were  some  not  merely 
mechanical  men,  but  possessed  of  the  spirit  of  research 
sufficiently  to  gather  and  write  out  for  me  much  fresh 
and  valuable  information.  Among  these  was  j\Ir 
Leighton,  from  Boston,  who  labored  for  me  most 
successfully  for  several  years. 

Thus  I  might  go  on  enumerating  and  describing 
until  half  a  dozen  chapters  were  filled.  Those  named 
are  few  as  compared  with  those  not  named ;  but  I  have 
mentioned  enough  to  give  some  idea  of  the  wonderl'ul 
variety  of  nationality  and  talent  employed  upon  tliis 
work,  not  the  least  wonderful  part  of  which  was  tlio 
strange  coincidents  bringing  together  so  heterogeneous 
an  assembly;  and  yet,  under  tlie  perfect  system  and 
organization  which  we  finally  succeeded  in  establish- 
ing, all  laboring  with  regularity  and  harmony. 


CHAPTER  XII. 


MY  FIRST  BOOK. 


Tno  stronj»  angola  stand  by  the  sido  of  History  as  heraldic  supporters: 
till  :iniri!l  of  I'oseiirch  on  tlio  left  lian<l,  that  must  road  niillions  of  dusty 
]i:i'iliiiicnts,  and  of  pages  blotted  with  lies;  the  angil  of  meditation  on  the 
n,hl  hand,  that  must  cleanse  tiie.so  lying  records  with  fire,  even  as  of  oKl 
111.   (hiiperies  of  asOeslos  were  clcunseJ,  and  must  quicken  them  into  rrgeii- 

''■''^''^  ^«-  J)e  Quiuceif. 

How  many  of  the  works  of  authors  may  bo  at- 
tiil)uted  purely  to  accident!  Had  not  Shakespeare 
lici'u  a  play-actor  wo  should  have  had  no  Shakespcnri's 
]tlays.  Had  not  Bunyan  been  imprisoned  and  Milton 
liliiid  we  migiit  look  in  vain  for  the  Pil(/n'ms  PfOfjrcss 
and  Paradise  Lost,  llobert  Pearse  Gillies  says  of 
Sir  Walter  Scott,  "I  have  always  been  persuaded  that 
liad  he  not  chanced,  and  in  those  days  it  was  a  rare 
(•liaiice,  to  get  some  German  lessons  from  a  competent 
professor,  and  had  he  not  also  chanced  to  have  Lenora 
and  The  Wild  Huntsman  played  before  him  as  exercises, 
^\■o  siiould  never  have  had  llie  Lay  oftJie  Last  Minstrel 
or  The  Ijrxdy  of  the  Lake."  More  than  any  other  one 
lil'nt,  Thackeray's  writing  for  Punch  taught  him 
^\il(!l•cin  his  strength  lay.  The  great  satirist  at  the 
l>i'.;i lining  of  his  literary  career  was  not  successful, 
and  it  is  a  question  whether  he  ever  would  have 
been  but  for  a  certain  train  of  circumstances  which 
crowded  application  upon  his  genius.  Apelles,  unabU^ 
todolinoate  to  his  satisfaction  the  foam  of  Alexanders 
liorso,  dashed  his  brush  against  the  canvas  in  angry 
drsjiair,  when  lol  upon  the  picture,  eftected  thus  by 
accident,  appeared  what  had  baffled  his  cunningest 
skill.     Turning-points  in  life  are  not  always  mere 

(277) 


278 


MY  FIRST  DOOK. 


af''i(lc;nt.  Oftoii  tlicy  urc  the  result  of  toacliing.s  or 
iiihorn  aspirations,  and  always  they  are  frauLjlit  with 
some  iiioi'al  lesson  of  s[)(('ial  siLjiiilicanee. 

Althou'^h  my  Native  liaccscnnnoi  be  ('allod  a  cliaiK-e 
creation,  its  comint^  as  my  lirst  work  was  juirely 
aecident.  Followini,^  my  jL^eneral  plan,  which  was  ;i 
series  of  works  on  the  western  half  of  Xorth  .VmiTici, 
I  must  of  necessity  treat  of  the  aborijjcines  at  souu; 
time.  But  now,  as  ever,  I  was  intent  only  on  histoiy, 
whoso  fascinations  increased  with  my  over  increasing,' 
api)rccIation  of  its  importance.  All  our  learninu^  wo 
derive  from  the  past.  To-day  is  the  pupil  of  yesterday, 
tliis  year  of  last  year;  drop  by  drop  the  activities  (»t 
each  successive  hour  arc  distilled  from  the  experiences 
of  the  centuries. 

And  the  moment  was  so  opportune.  Time  enonu'li 
had  elapsed  for  these  western  shores  to  have  a  histoiy, 
yet  not  enouufh,  since  civilization  llurhtod  here,  to  lose 
any  considerable  portion  of  it.  Then,  strange  as  it 
may  seem,  from  the  depths  of  despair  I  would  some- 
times rise  to  the  firm  conviction  that  with  :ny  facilities 
and  determined  purpose  I  could  not  only  do  this  woik, 
but  that  I  could  save  to  these  Pacific  States  moie 
of  their  early  incidents  than  had  been  })rcserved  to 
other  nations;  that  I  could  place  on  record  annals  ex- 
ceptionally complete  and  truthfu;  that  I  could  write 
a  history  which  as  a  piece  of  thorough  work,  if  un- 
accompanied by  any  other  excellence,  would  be  given 
a  place  among  the  histories  of  the  world. 

Nor  was  the  idea  necessarily  the  offspring  of  egoism. 
I  do  not  say  that  I  regarded  this  country  as  tlio 
greatest  whose  history  had  over  been  written,  or  my- 
self as  a  very  able  historian.  Far,  very  far  from  it. 
There  were  here  no  grand  evolutions  or  revolutions 
of  mankind,  no  mighty  battles  affecting  the  worlds 
political  balance,  no  ten  centuries  of  darkness  and 
non-progressional  torpidity,  no  pageantry  of  kings,  or 
diplomacy  of  statesmen,  or  craft  of  priestly  magnates 
with  which  to  embellish  my  pages  and  stir  to  glowing 


PRACTICAL  HISTORY. 


270 


admiration  the  interest  of  my  readers.  The  incidents 
(it"  history  here  were  in  a  measure  tamo,  and  for  that 
reason  all  the  more  dillicult  of  dramatic  presentation. 
The  wars  of  cominest  were  mostly  witli  savages,  (•!• 
with  nations  palsied  by  superstition;  and  since  tlio 
(•()ii(|uest  no  such  s[)asms  of  j)ro<;ress  have  been  made 
;\A  to  command  the  world's  attention  or  admiiation 
lur  any  leni^th  of  time.  Not  that  ii^litiuL,'  is  thts 
littest  subject  for  record,  or  that  without  social  con- 
vulsions the  nation  has  no  history.  The  time  has  come 
when  war  should  be  deemed  the  dee]»est  disi^race,  a 
Itrutal  way  of  settling  diiferenees,  and  the  evolutions  of 
alls,  industries,  and  intellect  the  fairest  ilcnvers  of  pr'  >;_;■  - 
ress.  That  wliich  is  constant  is  history,  that  which  i  ■; 
elevating  and  ennobling,  no  less  than  debasing  war  and 
social  disru})tions.  The  [)hiloso[)hic  or  didactic  v  iter 
i>t"  the  ])reseut  day  is  of  opinion  that  to  form  0(jrrect 
conceptions  of  n  people  one  should  know  sonicthing  of 
the  state  of  society  and  institutions  that  evolved  them. 
The  devuiopmentof  a  nation's  institutions, their  slruct- 
ui'i!  and  functions,  are  of  no  less  importance  than  a 
narrative  of  a  nation's  fortunes  in  other  respects,  or 
the  sayings  and  doings  of  its  great  men.  Yet,  if  over 
fancy  whis[)ered  I  could  write  well,  I  had  but  to  read 
a  jiage  of  Shakespeare,  whose  pencil  was  dipped  in 
colors  of  no  earthly  extraction,  and  whose  every 
tiiiishod  sentence  is  a  string  of  pearls,  and  the  foun- 
tains of  my  ambition  would  dwindle  to  insignificance. 
A\  hat  wore  my  miserable  efforts  beside  the  conceptions 
of  a  J)ante,  the  touch  of  a  Dore,  the  brilliant  imagery 
of  a  St  John!  How  powerful  are  words  to  him  who 
can  handle  them,  and  yet  how  insignificant  in  the 
iiands  of  weaklings  to  describe  these  sul>tile  shades  of 
human  qualities!  What  are  the  many  thousand  ditfer- 
cut  words,  made  by  the  various  combinations  of  the 
twenty-six  letters  of  the  al[)habet,  and  of  which  many 
iiioro  might  be  made,  since  the  possible  combination 
et  these  words  into  others  and  into  sentences  is  prac- 
tically infinite — what  are  all  these  word-iitting  possi- 


290 


MY  FIRST  BOOK. 


I '  i 


•  11  .ii 


bilities  in  the  hands  of  r.  bun'jlor,  or  of  one  wlio  laelcs 
1  he  ideas  to  call  thciu  forth  and  array  thcni?  And  yet, 
Avero  tlie  scope  of  hnnian  laniijuaij^e  a  thousand  times 
more  varied,  and  there  should  arise  one  capable  of 
Avieldlnij  this  cnlarfjed  vocabulary,  the  varied  thouuht 
and  feeliii'j;'  incident  to  humanity  would  still  bo  but 
])ooily  expressed. 

Not  only  the  thoughts  of  a  great  poet  but  tlie 
language  in  which  his  thoughts  are  clothed  display 
his  genius.  Undertake  to  express  his  idea  in  wonls 
of  your  own,  and  you  will  find  its  essence  evaporated. 
( 'olerido-e  savs  you  *' nii»>-ht  as  well  think  of  pushiii''- 
a  bri  k  out  of  the  wall  with  your  forenni»'er  as  al- 
tenij>t  to  nnnove  a  word  out  of  any  of  the  finished 
])assages  of  Shakespeare."  Become  possessed  with 
an  idea,  and  3'ou  will  then  find  language  according 
to  your  ability  to  express  it;  it  is  povcrt}'  of  ideas 
that  makes  men  comjilain  of  the  ]>overty  of  language. 
In  the  writings  of  8hakesiK\ire  imagination  and  ex- 
j)erience,  wisdom,  wit,  and  charity,  connningle  ami 
play  upon  and  into  each  other  until  simple  woi'ds 
glow  like  fire  illuminated  by  supernatural  signi Il- 
ea nee. 

Arid  as  thought  becomes  elevated,  the  simpler  and 
jilalnei'  becomes  expression.  The  seed  of  elocjuence 
lies  in  the  conception  of  the  thought,  and  the  siiii- 
]ilieity  with  which  it  is  expressed  gives  the  subliiiio 
si»ul-stii']'ing  power.  It  is  significant  that  the  books 
which  have  held  their  highest  place  in  literature  I'or 
centuries  have  been  written  in  the  jjurest  and  simjtlest 
Saxon.  The  English  language  as  used  by  Sliake- 
s|)eare  and  ]\[ilton  shows  amazing  strength,  llexibiliiy, 
delicacy,  and  harmony. 

Thus  the  billows  of  despondency  passed  ovor  rae, 
and  at  times  it  scciried  as  if  my  lite  and  all  my  labors 
Vvore  empty  aii'.  Overwhelmed  by  the  magnitude  of 
my  taslc,  I  sat  for  days  and  brooded,  heart-sick  and 
<liscouraged.    Wliat  pi'ofiteth  me  this  heavy  labor;' 


INEXORABLE  NECESSITY, 


2S1 


My  mind  is  vapid,  my  nerves  unstrung:  I  have  not 
the  strength,  physical  or  intellectual,  for  a  Avork  of 
su'-h  magnitude.  I  may  succeed  or  I  may  fail.  In 
cither  case  some  will  approve,  others  will  ridicule. 
And  what  is  approval  or  ridicule  to  me?  ]Cven  if 
Mieccss  comes,  what  good  will  it  do  me?  I  do  nt)b 
jiiofeys  to  love  ni}''  race  or  country  better  than  anotlier. 
J  do  this  work  to  please  neither  God  nor  man,  but 
only  myself  It  is  based  on  a  schislmess  almost  as 
l)r()ad  as  that  of  patriots  and  propagandists.  I  must 
1  lil  on,  denying  myself  companionship,  wliich  indeed 
Nv.is  small  hardship;  I  must  deprive  myself  of  every 
jiK'asure,  even  of  the  blessed  air  and  sunshine,  the 
sweetest  gifts  of  nature,  and  which  are  freely  bestowed 
iipoii  tlie  meanest  of  created  things.  These  and  nine 
tenths  of  the  joys  of  association  and  recreation  I  must 
yield  to  musty  books  and  dusty  garret;  I  nuist  hug 
this  heaviness,  and  all  because  of  an  idea.  .Vll  the 
]  lowers  of  mind  and  body  must  be  made  captive  to 
this  one  ptirpose;  ])assion,  ])rejudiee,  and  })leasure, 
vliere  they  interfere.  And  yet  must  the  worker  often 
gro])e  in  vain  for  the  })ower  of  mental  concentration, 
while  })rogress  laughs  moekinglj'.  For  such  work, 
such  sell'-denial,  I  cannot  take  my  ])ay  in  i)raise. 
Thei'e  must  be  some  higlier,  some  nobler  aim.  Ah! 
these  faihn-es,  these  heart-sicknessi's.  ]]ut  write! 
write!  write!  The  ilend  is  at  my  el  In  >n'  and  I  must 
write.  jNIaudlin  stuff  it  may  be,  but  I  must  write  it 
down.  Death  alone  can  deliver  me  from  these  toils, 
(MU  open  a  wide  current  for  my  stagnant  thoughts 
and  hjadeu  sensibilities.  ^Vud  my  j)rayer  shall  be,  Let 
me  die  like  I'lato,  at  my  table,  jien  in  hand,  and  be 
hvnied  among  the  scenes  of  my  labors. 

Tliere  have  been  Uieii,  and  many  of  them,  who  felt 
tlial  t  iiey  must  write,  and  yet  who  wi'ott^  with  difrieulty, 
and  t'l'om  no  ilesji'e  for  fame,  who  wrote  ni'itlui'  t'lom  a 
|irit<iuled  anxiety  to  make  men  better  nor  under  nec(>s- 
M'\ .  Whv,  then,  did  thev  write  (  IV'rhaps  from  the 
[in  ssure  of  genius,  ])erha))s  from  a  lack  ofconunonsensi'. 


282 


MY  FIRST  BOOK. 


;.5!i 


No  person  knows  less  of  tlic  stuff  he  is  made  of  than 
he  wlio  takes  pen  in  hand  and  has  nothing  to  say. 

What  profitcth  it  me?  again  I  ask.  Money?  I 
shall  die  a  poor  man,  and  my  (children  will  have  only 
their  father's  folly  for  an  inheiitance.  Does  God  ])ay 
for  such  endeavor?  I  should  have  more  heart  did  I 
but  feel  assured  of  some  compensatic-.n  hereafter,  for 
this  life  seems  pretty  well  lost  to  me.  But  even  such 
assurance  is  denied  me.  Posthumous  fame  is  but  a 
phantom,  the  off-float  from  scarcely  more  solid  con- 
temporaneous opinion,  the  ghost  of  a  man's  deeds.  In 
looking  over  my  writings  I  sometimes  doubt  whom  I 
serve  most,  Christ  or  Belial,  or  whether  either  will 
acknowletlge  mo  his  servant.  And  yet  the  half  is 
not  tokl,  for  if  it  were,  with  the  good  Cid  Ilamete  I 
might  be  applauded  less  for  what  I  have  written  than 
for  what  I  have  omitted  to  write. 

There  is  a  quality  of  intellectual  application  that 
will  never  be  satisfied  with  less  than  grand  results. 
It  i:-  enough  for  some  money-makers  to  gather  and 
hoard,  to  feel  themselves  the  possessors  of  wealth, 
their  power  increased  by  the  power  their  dollars  will 
measure;  others  such  toad-life  fails  to  satisfy;  tlicro 
must  be  with  them  a  birth,  a  creation,  as  the  fruit  of 
their  labor.  And  amidst  such  labors  many  cares  arc 
dissipated.  As  the  Chinese  say,  "The  dog  in  his 
kennel  barks  at  his  lleas,  but  the  doGf  that  is  hunting 
does  not  feel  them."  Labor  pursued  as  pleasure  is 
light,  yet  ho  who  seeks  only  pleasure  in  his  work  will 
never  find  it.  Pleasure  is  a  good  chance  acquaintance, 
but  a  bad  companion.  It  is  the  useful,  the  bcnciicial 
alone  which  gives  true  enjoyment,  and  in  the  attain- 
ment of  this  there  is  often  much  pain.  Yet  if  lit'o 
like  the  olive  is  a  bitter  fruit,  when  pressed  it  yields 
sweet  oil,  Jean  Paul  Ilichter  would  say. 

It  does  not  make  much  difference  whether  one  re- 
ceives impressions  through  the  ears  like  Madame  do 
Stael,  or  through  the  eyes  like  Huskin,  so  long  as  oiio 
embraces  opportunities  and  utilizes  the  results.    To 


LAW  OF  COMPENSATION. 


read  for  my  own  pleasure  or  benefit  was  not  sufficient 
for  me;  it  was  not  consistent  w^tli  the  aims  and  in- 
dustries of  my  past  life,  as  I  have  elsewhere  observed, 
which  were  never  content  unless  there  appeared  some- 
tliiiiiT  taniiil)le  as  the  result  of  each  vear's  endeavor. 
Hence  tlie  melancholia  which  Albert  Diircr  pictures, 
iind  whicli  otherwise  would  have  devoured  me,  1  never 
felt  to  that  degree  of  intensity  experiencetl  by  many 
students.  Speaking  of  this  brooding  melancholy, 
which  is  so  apt  to  be  inseparable  from  the  lives  of 
severe  workers,  Mr  Hamerton  says:  ''I  have  known 
several  men  of  action,  almost  entirely  dev\)id  of  in- 
tellectual culture,  who  enjoyed  an  unbroken  flow  of 
animal  energy,  and  were  clearly  free  from  the  melan- 
clioly  of  Dlirer,  but  I  never  intimately  knew  a  really 
cultivated  })erson  who  had  not  sufl:ered  from  it  more 
or  less;  and  the  greatest  suflerers  were  the  most  con- 
scientious tliiidcers  and  students." 

Then  another  train  of  thought  would  take  posses- 
sion of  me,  and  I  would  argue  to  myself  that  after  all, 
in  tlie  absence  of  a  quality,  material  or  accpiired,  there 
is  always  compensation,  if  not  conjplete  at  least  i)ar- 
tial.  Public  speaking  is  an  art  which  I  have  olten 
oovcted.  To  hold  in  rapt  attention  a  thousand  listeners 
whose  presence  and  sympathy  should  feed  fires  radi- 
ating in  dazzling  conceits  is  a  fascination  often  risin'_j 
bcfoi'e  the  student  of  ardent  longings,  and  most  vividly 
of  all  before  him  in  whom  such  talents  are  lamenta- 
bly absent.  Yet  the  rule  is,  to  which  I  know  excep- 
tions, that  the  brilliant  speaker  is  seldom  the  best 
scholar  or  the  most  profound  thinker. 

It  is  told  of  the  vocalist  Lablache  that  by  ficial 
expression  he  could  represent  a  thunder-storm  in  a 
iiinst  remarkable  manner.  The  gloom  which  over- 
si  uulowed  the  face,  as  clouds  the  sky,  deepened  into 
(laiknoss,  then  lowered  as  an  angry  tempest.  Light- 
ning flashed  from  the  winking  eyes,  twitching  tlie 
musclos  of  the  face  and  mouth,  and  tliunder  shook 
the  head.    Finally  the  storm  died  away,  and  the  le- 


284 


MY  FIRST  BOOK. 


II 


M 


1 1' 


'I 


turniiiGf  sun  illumined  the  features  and  wreathed  the 
face  iu  smiles.  There  is  somethin'j'  irresistible  in  the 
tone  and  manner  of  an  eloquent  speaker;  likewise  in 
the  ilowinix  thouj^hts  of  a  o-raceful  writer.  As  iu  meet- 
iiig  a  stnuiger,  wo  arc  at  first  attracted  by  the  dress 
and  ])olish  which  conceal  character  I'athcr  than  by 
qualitics  of  the  head  and  heart,  of  which  wc  know 
nothing.  But  since  science  now  so  often  strips  from 
the  kernel  of  things  their  soft  and  comely  covering, 
history  is  no  longer  willing  to  sacrifice  for  meat  liiu, 
or  for  the  body  raiment. 

Following  violent  exercise,  mental  or  physical, 
comes  the  reaction;  sinking  of  spirit  follows  eleva- 
tion of  spirit.  Night  succeeds  day  in  mental  eifoi-ls, 
and  dark  indeed  is  the  night  of  the  intellectual  life. 
The  men  wliom  wc  regard  most  happy  and  success- 
ful arc  not  free  from  this  blue-sickness;  for,  passing 
the  extreme  cases  of  morbid  melancholy  such  as 
was  displayed  by  Wordsworth,  Byi'on,  and  Shelley, 
the  curses  attending  the  imaginative  tcmpcramont 
are  too  plainly  palpable  even  in  such  happy  produc- 
tions as  Wertht  sxnd  Maud.  The  intensity  and  ex- 
citement which  produce  a  poem,  as  a  matter  of  course 
can  be  but  transient;  that  which  follows  too  often 
causes  the  poet  to  appear  as  much  less  than  man,  as 
in  the  authoi'ship  he  appeared  to  be  more  than  man. 

Books  are  a  mighty  enginery.  Yet  before  men 
became  bookish  there  issued  from  them  an  inlluence 
subtile  as  air  and  strong  as  the  tcnnpest.  To  the  sur- 
vivors of  the  Athenian  host  annihilated  at  Syi'acuse 
it  was  ordained  that  any  prisoner  who  could  recite 
passages  or  scenes  from  the  dramas  of  Euripides 
should  be  taken  from  the  quarries  and  kindly  treated 
in  Sicilian  houses.  What  weapon  was  here!  One 
little  dreamed  of,  even  by  him  who  held  it. 

Literary  activity  manifested  itself  in  the  days  of 
the  empire,  when  for  two  hundretl  years  there  had 
been  a  steady  ilow  of  wealth  from  all  parts  of  the 
civilized  world  into  the  lap  of  Home.     Helincd  tastes 


ti  'i 


IXC.VRXATIOX  OF  THE  IDEA. 


285 


followed  that  love  of  enjoyment  and  display  which  i.s 
the  first  fruits  of  uioncy,  and  with  luxury  came  culture. 
In  gorgeous  palaces  were  crowded  the  treasures  of 
Ilrlienic  civilization;  manuscripts  and  works  of  art, 
gathered  by  Greek  collectors,  found  their  wa}'  into 
the  libraries  of  Asia  and  Europe.  In  Rome,  two 
tliousand  years  ago,  when  an  author  about  to  read  his 
manuscript  appeared  before  the  audience,  he  some- 
times arraj^ed  himself  in  a  gayly  colored  hood,  ear 
])andagcs,  and  a  comforter  about  his  neck,  hoping  by 
thus  decking  his  person  to  give  the  greater  eilicacy 
to  his  discourse.  So  runs  fashion.  In  the  davs  of 
cliivalry  learning  was  accounted  almost  a  disgrace, 
Piiests  might  know  a  little  without  loss  of  caste,  but 
M'omen  and  churls  had  other  and  more  highly  esteemed 
u^;cs.  All  else  were  knights-errant,  and  if  one  of  these 
could  road  he  kept  the  knowledge  of  the  accomplish- 
iiiont  hidden  from  his  fellows.  To  the  soldier  of  the 
fiixteenth  century  money-making  was  a  low  occupation, 
especially  if  it  involved  work.  They  might  kill  for 
gold  but  they  must  not  dig  for  it.  Now  any  one  may 
lualvC  money,  even  at  the  cost  of  damaged  honor,  and 
all  is  well;  yet  few  understand  how  a  sane  man  can 
eschew  fortune,  pleasure,  and  indeed  fame,  for  the 
satisfaction  of  gratilying  his  intellectual  tastes.  Mrs 
Tutliill  says  in  an  introduction  to  one  of  Ruskin'.s 
volumes :  "  The  enthusiasm  of  a  man  of  genius  appears 
to  the  multitude  like  madness." 


Before  my  cooler  judgment  my  self-imposed  task 
presented  itself  in  this  form:  Next  after  gathering, 
already  partir^'  "  accomplished,  was  the  ac(piisition  of 
power  over  the  mass.  From  being  slave  of  all  this 
knowledge,  I  must  become  master.  This  was  already 
l»artially  accomplished  by  means  of  the  index,  as  be- 
fore explained,  which  placed  at  my  connnand  the  in- 
stantaneous appearance  of  whatever  my  authors  had 
said  on  any  subject.  To  know  anything  perfectly, 
out'  must  know  many  things  perfectly.    Then  surely 


286 


MY  FIRST  BOOK. 


1  „ 


with  all  tho  evidence  extant  on  any  historical  point 
or  incident  before  me  I  should  be  able  with  sufficit'ut 
study  and  thought  to  determine  the  truth,  atid  in  phiin 
languajj^c  to  write  it  down.  My  olijcct  seemed  to  bo 
the  pride  and  satisfaction  it  woidd  afford  \\u\  to  im- 
prove somewliat  tlie  records  of  my  race,  save  some- 
thing of  a  nation's  history,  which  but  for  me  would 
drop  into  oblivion;  to  catch  from  the  mouths  of  living 
witnesses,  just  ready  to  take  their  final  departure, 
important  facts  explaining  new  incidents  and  strange 
experiences;  to  originate  and  perfect  a  system  by 
which  means  alone  this  history  could  be  gathered  and 
written;  to  lay  the  corner-stone  of  this  fair  land's 
literature  while  the  land  was  yet  young  and  ambitious, 
and  accomplish  in  one  generation  what  l)y  the  slowci- 
stage-coach  processes  hitherto  employed  even  by  tho 
latest  and  best  historians  would  have  occupied  ten 
generations,  or  indeed  from  the  very  nature  of  things 
might  never  have  been  accomplished  at  all.  Here- 
upon turns  all  progress,  all  human  advancement.  One 
of  the  main  diifer-enccs  between  civilization  and  sav- 
agism  is  that  one  preserves  its  experiences  as  tliey 
accunuilatc  and  the  other  does  not.  Savagism  ceases 
to  be  savagism  and  becomes  civilization  the  moment 
the  savage  begins  a  record  of  events. 

Mine  was  a  great  work  that  could  be  performed 
by  a  small  man.  As  Beaumarchais  says:  "Mediocre 
et  rampant,  ct  Ton  arrive  a  tout."  Vigorous  and  per- 
sistent ett\)rt  for  twenty  or  thirty  years,  with  sutHcienl 
self-abnegation,  a  liberal  outlay  of  money,  and  an 
evenly  balanced  mind,  not  carried  away  by  its  en- 
thusiasm, could  accomplish  more  at  this  time  than 
would  be  later  possible  under  any  circumstances.  And 
althougli  in  my  efforts  like  the  eagle,  which  mistook 
the  bald  head  of  ^sch3dus  for  a  stone,  I  sometimes 
endeavored  to  crack  the  shell  of  my  tortoise  on  the 
wrong  subject;  and  although  much  of  the  time  the 
work  was  apparently  stationary,  yet  in  reality  like  a 
glacier  it  was  slowly  furrowing  for  itself  a  path. 


ENNOBLING   ENDEAVOR. 


287 


"Good  aims  not  al\va3's  niako  good  books,"  says 
^[rs  Browning.  So  with  mind  well  toni[)ored  and 
ambition  held  in  strict  control,  I  determiiu'd  to  work 
and  wait.  Some  men  live  in  their  endeavors.  Uidess 
they  have  before  them  intricate  work  they  are  not 
satisfied.  The  moment  one  difficult  undertaking  is 
accomplished  they  straightway  [)ine  for  an<^tlier. 
(Ireat  pleasure  is  felt  in  finishing  a  tedious  and  diffi- 
cult piece  of  work,  but  long  before  one  was  done  by 
me  I  had  a  dozen  other  tedious  and  difficult  ])ieces 
planned.  Early  in  my  efforts  the  conquest  of  Mexico 
attracted  my  attention.  This  brilliant  episode  lay 
directly  in  my  path  or  I  never  should  have  had  the 
audacity  to  grapple  with  it  after  the  graceful  and 
]ihilosophic  pen  of  Prescott  had  traced  its  history. 
This  story  of  the  conquest  possessed  me  with  a  thrill- 
ing interest  which  might  almost  carry  inspiration;  and 
but'ore  mo  lay  not  only  the  original  authorities,  with 
much  new  and  unused  collateral  information,  but  com- 
l)lete  histories  of  that  epoch,  in  English,  Spanish, 
French,  Italian,  and  German — careful  histories  from 
able  and  eloquent  pens.  Those  might  be  the  guide 
of  the  literary  fledgling.  Ah!  there  was  the  trouble. 
Had  there  been  any  need  for  such  a  work;  had  the 
work  not  been  done  better  than  I  could  hope  to  do  it; 
had  I  not  these  bright  examples  all  before  me,  seem- 
ingly in  derision  of  my  puny  efforts,  I  should  have 
been  better  able  to  abstract  the  facts  and  arrauije 
thorn  in  readable  order. 

]My  first  concern  was  the  manner  of  fitting  words 
together;  the  facts  seerned  for  the  moment  of  second- 
ary consideration.  To  array  in  brilliant  colors  empty 
ideas  was  nearer  model  history-writing  than  the 
sharpest  philosophy  in  homely  garb.  The  conse- 
quence was,  this  mountain  of  my  ambition  after  hard 
labor  brought  forth  a  few  chapters  of  sententious 
imtliings,  which  a  second  writing  seemed  only  to  con- 
tuse yet  more,  and  which  after  many  sighings  and 
heart-sinkings   I   tore   up,  and   cleared    my  table  of 


288 


MY  FIRST  BOOK. 


I  i 


■',"1: 


authorities  on  the  grand  coiirjuest.  Tlic  result  brought 
to  uiy  mind  the  experience  oi'  K;uit,  who  for  the  second 
e(Ulion  ot"  his  Critiqne  (if  Pure  Jteason  rewrote  some 
jKirts  of  it  in  order  to  give  tlieni  greater  perspicuity, 
though  in  reahty  the  exi)kination  was  more  enigmat- 
ical than  what  hatl  been  first  written. 

Now,  I  said,  will  I  begin  at  tlie  beginning,  where  I 
should  have  begun.  The  Pacific  States  territory,  as 
by  this  time  I  had  it  marked,  extended  south  to  the 
Atrato  river,  so  as  to  include  the  whole  of  tlie 
isthmus  of  Darien.  I  would  notice  the  first  appear- 
ance of  the  Spaniards  along  these  shores.  I  Mould 
make  my  first  volume  the  conquest  of  Darien,  bring- 
ing the  Jiistory  down  from  the  discovery  ])y  Cohnnbus 
and  the  first  touching  of  f  i.e  North  American  conti- 
nent at  the  Isthmus  by  Il(^drigo  de  Bastidas  in  1501, 
to  about  the  year  1530,  to  be  followed  by  a  chapter 
on  the  expedition  of  Pizarro  from  Panama  to  l*eru. 

So  I  entered  upon  a  thorough  study  of  the  discov- 
ery of  America,  of  society  and  civilization  in  Europe 
at  and  prior  to  the  discovery;  paying  particular  atten- 
tion to  Spanish  character  and  institutions.  At  this 
time  I  was  almost  wholly  occupied  in  handling  tlio 
ideas  of  others:  but  it  was  not  long  before  I  began  to 
have  ideas  of  ray  own;  just  as  Spinoza  in  writing  a 
s3'nopsis  of  the  system  of  Descartes  threw  into  the 
principles  of  Cartesian  philosophy  much  original 
thought  and  speculation  while  scarcely  conscious  of 
it,  I  wrote  a  long  dissertation  for  what  I  conceived 
a  fit  introduction  to  a  history  of  the  Pacific  States. 
To  follow  this  introduction,  with  some  assistance  I 
})repared  a  summary  of  voyages  and  discovery  from 
the  earliest  times  to  about  1540. 

Over  these  two  sunnnaries  I  labored  long  and  faith- 
fully, spending  fully  six  months  on  them  with  all  the 
assistance  I  could  utilize.  Oftentimes  work  arose 
where  assistance  was  impracticable;  I  could  perform 
it  better  alone:  with  a  dozen  good  men  at  my  elbow 
I    have   nevertheless    written    many  volumes   alone, 


UNAVAILABLE  HELP. 


289 


taking  out  all  Jiotus  myself,  because  I  could  not 
profitably  employ  help.  And  further  than  this,  I 
often  carried  on  no  less  than  four  or  five  distinct 

woi'ks  |9a>v' jx«.%'?<. 

To  my  help  in  writing  this  introduction  I  called  a 
m.in  well  informed  in  all  mediaeval  knowledcre.  In  all 
scicucc  and  regarding  all  schools  his  opinions  were 
iiKidorn,  yet  ho  could  readily  explain  the  theories  of 
t'liose  who  held  opposite  doctrines.  Surely,  I  thought, 
ill  preparing  such  an  essay  as  I  desired  such  a  person 
^\(Mlld  l)o  invaluable.  So  I  instructed  him  to  study 
llic  sul)ject,  particularly  that  part  of  it  relating  to 
literature,  language,  and  learning,  with  the  view  of 
his  gathering  some  pertinent  facts  for  me.  He  read, 
and  read,  eagerly  devouring  all  he  could  lay  hands  on. 
Anil  he  would  have  continued  reading  to  this  day  had 
I  been  willing  to  pay  him  his  salary  regularly  for  it. 
He  liked  to  read.  And  I  said  to  myself,  this  is 
glorious !  Surely,  as  the  result  of  such  enthusiasm  I 
sliall  liave  a  bushel  of  invaluable  notes. 

Mianwhile  I  labored  hard  myself,  studying  care- 
fully over  two  hundred  volumes  bearing  upon  the 
j<uhjeet,  taking  notes  and  committing  my  ideas  to 
paper.  The  trouble  was — as  was  always  the  trouble — 
to  limit  the  sketch,  yet  make  it  symmetrical  and 
complete.  Occasionally  I  would  urge  my  assistant 
to  hring  his  investigations  to  some  practical  result, 
for  after  rcadinof  two  months  he  had  not  half  a  dozen 
pages  of  written  matter  to  show. 

"  Lot  me  get  it  fairly  into  my  head,"  said  he,  "and 
I  will  soon  commit  it  to  paper." 

And  so  for  another  month  he  continued  the  stuffing 
prcjcess,  until  I  became  tired  of  it,  and  told  him  plainly 
to  give  me  what  he  had  gathered  and  leave  the  sub- 
ject. A  fortnight  later  he  handed  me  about  thirty 
pages  of  commonplace  information,  in  which  there 
was  hardly  a  note  that  proved  any  addition  to  my 
own  researches.  And  this  was  the  result  of  his  three 
months'  hard  work,  for  he  did  really  apply  himself 

Lit.  Ins.    10 


200 


MY  FIRST  BOOK. 


diligently  to  the  task,  and  thought  all  the  time  that 
ho  was  making  ju-ogrt'ss  until  he  came  to  the  sum- 
ming up,  which  di.sa[)poiniod  him  as  much  as  myself. 
Wliile  engaged  in  the  study  his  mind  had  absorbed  a 
vast  amount  of  information,  wliich  might  some  tinio 
prove  valuable  to  him,  Ijut  was  of  no  use  to  me.  And 
so  it  often  ha])pene(],  particularly  at  the  first,  and  be- 
fore I  had  a|'j)lii'(.l  u  thorough  system  of  drilling; 
months  and  years  were  vainly  spent  by  able  persons 
in  the  eHbrt  to  extract  material  Ibr  me.  With  regai'd 
to  the  introduction,  as  was  yet  often  the  case,  I  had 
vague  conceptions  only  of  what  I  should  require,  lor 
the  reason  that  I  could  not  tell  what  shape  the  suIj- 
ject  would  assume  when  wi  »u«dit  out.  This  was  the 
«;ase  with  many  a  chapter  or  volume.  Its  character  I 
eould  not  altogether  control;  nay,  rather  than  control 
it  I  would  let  fact  have  free  course,  and  record  only 
as  directed  by  the  subject  itself.  One  is  scarcely  fit 
to  write  upon  a  subject  until  one  has  written  much 
upon  it.  That  which  is  I  would  record;  yet  that 
which  is  may  be  differently  understood  by  different 
persons.  I  endeavored  always  to  avoid  planting  my- 
self upon  an  opinion,  and  saying  thus  and  so  it  is, 
and  shall  be,  all  incidental  and  (X)llateral  facts  being 
warped  accordingly;  rather  would  I  write  the  truth, 
let  the  result  be  what  it  might. 

He  who  aims  at  honesty  will  never  leave  a  subject 
on  which  he  discourses  without  an  effort  at  a  judicial 
view,  or  witliout  an  attempt  to  separate  himself  froiu 
his  subject  and  to  marshal  the  arguments  on  the  otli<r 
side.  He  will  contradict  his  own  statement,  and  demur 
at  his  conclusions,  until  the  matter  is  so  thoroughlv 
sifted  in  his  own  mind  that  a  highl}''  prejudiced  x'lcw 
would  be  improbable.  He  who  warps  fact  or  fails  to 
mva  ui  evidence  against  himself  is  not  entitled  to  our 
respect.  The  writer  of  exact  history  must  lay  aside, 
so  far  as  possible,  his  emotional  nature.  Knowing 
that  his  judgment  is  liable  to  prejudice,  and  that  it  is 
impossible  to  be  always  conscious  of  its  presence,  he 


THE  TREACHERY  OF  BIAS. 


201 


will  constantly  suspect  himself  and  rigidly  review  his 
work.  If  there  was  one  thing  David  Hume  piqued 
himself  on  more  than  anotiier,  it  was  his  frectlora 
from  bias;  and  yet  the  writings  of  no  historian  un- 
cover more  glaring  prejudices  than  do  his  in  certain 
phiccs.  A  classicist  of  the  Diderot  and  Voltaire  school, 
he  despised  too  heartily  the  writings  of  the  monkish 
chroniclers  to  examine  them.  Macaulay  sacrificed 
truthfulness  to  an  epigrammatic  style,  the  beauty  and 
force  of  which  lay  in  exaggeration.  It  has  always 
b(;('ii  my  custom  to  examine  carefully  authorities  cur- 
rent ly  held  of  little  or  no  value.  Not  that  I  over  de- 
rived, or  expected  to  derive,  much  benefit  from  them, 
but  it  was  a  satisfaction  to  know  everything  that  had 
been  written  on  the  subject  I  was  treating.  And  as 
fur  bias,  though  not  pretending  to  be  free  fi-om  it — 
wlio  that  lives  is? — yet  were  I  ever  knowingly  to  reach 
t\w  point  where  pride  of  opinion  was  preferred  before 
truth,  I  should  wish  from  that  moment  to  lay  down 
my  pen.  Should  ever  any  obstacle  or  temptation  inter- 
])Ose  to  warp  the  facts  before  me;  should  ever  fear, 
ilivor,  conventionality,  tra'^'tion,  or  a  desire  for  praise 
or  [)opularity,or  any  other  vile  contravention, wittingly 
come  between  me  and  plain  unadulterated  truth,  I 
should  say,  Palsied  be  the  hand  that  writes  a  lie ! 

The  introduction  to  my  history  was  exclusively  my 
own  theme;  in  some  subjects  others  might  to  some 
extent  participate  with  me,  but  not  in  this.  Hence, 
(luring  the  fourteen  weeks  my  really  talented  and 
mtelligcnt  assistant  was  floundering  in  a  sea  of  erudi- 
tion, with  little  or  nothing  available  in  the  end  to 
!>li()\v  for  it,  I  myself  had  taken  out  material  from 
which  I  easily  wrote  three  hundred  pages,  though 
after  twice  re-arransfinj?  and  rewriting  I  reduced  it 
one  half,  eliminated  half  of  what  was  left,  and  printed 
the  remainder. 

To  form  a  critical  estimate  of  our  own  literary 
ability  is  impossible.  "It  is  either  very  good  or  very 
bad,  I  don't  know  which,"  sighed  Hawthorne  as  he 


292 


MY  FIRST  BOOK. 


i  I 


placed  in  the  hands  of  a  friend  the  manuscript  of 
his  Scarlet  Letter.  It  is  oi'ton  more  difficult  to  form 
a  just  opinion  of  the  chanictur  or  ahility  of  a  Ioiil,' 
esteemed  friend  than  of  an  ordinary  acquaintance;  it 
is  more  difficult  to  form  a  critical  estimate  of  a  citii- 
temporary  than  of  a  writer  of  tlie  past.  As  Cer- 
vantes says:  "Porquo  no  ay  padru  ni  madre  a  quieu 
sus  hijos  le  parezcan  fcos:  yen  los  que  lo  son  del 
entendimionto,  corremos  este  enofano."  Did  not  Jeaii 
Paul  Ilicliter,  with  faith  in  himself,  labor  in  the 
deepest  poverty  for  ten  long  years  before  his  genius 
was  even  rccoGfuizcd?  Who  are  our  j^reat  men  o[' 
to-day?  Blinded  by  the  dust  of  battle,  if  we  ha\i 
them  we  cannot  see  them.  Our  children  and  grantl- 
children  will  tell;  we  do  not  know.  The  current  of 
passing  impressions,  the  record  of  contemporaneous 
opinion,  differ  widely  from  the  after  judgments  of 
history.  "Yet  the  judgment  of  history,"  says  oiu', 
"must  be  based  on  contemporaneous  evidence." 

In  all  this  the  failure  of  certain  of  my  assistants  to 
prove  profitable  to  my  work  was  a  source  of  small 
anxiety  to  me  as  compared  with  my  own  failures.  It 
was  what  I  could  do  with  my  own  brain  and  fingeis. 
and  that  alone,  which  gave  me  pleasure.  "  Not  what  I 
have,  but  what  I  do  is  my  kingdom,"  says  Teufel>- 
drockh.  If  by  securing  help  I  might  accomplish  more, 
well ;  but  the  work  itself  must  be  mine  alone,  planned 
by  me  and  executed  by  me. 

And  now  was  fully  begun  this  new  life  of  mine,  the 
old  life  being  dead;  a  sea  of  unborn  experiences  wliich 
I  prayed  might  be  worth  the  sailing  c"er,  else  might 
I  as  well  have  ce  sed  to  be  ere  myself  embark inu,\ 
This  change  of  life  'as  as  the  birth  of  a  new  creature. 
a  baptism  in  a  new  tmosphere.  With  the  olnysalis 
of  business  was  left  he  ambition  of  ordinary  acquisi- 
tion, so  that  the  wii  ed  intellect  might  rise  int(j  the 
glorious  sunshine  c  yet  nobler  acquisition.  The 
wealth  which  might  minister  to  sensual  gratification 
was  made  to  subserve  the  wealth  of  intellectual  grati- 


TRIUMPH  AND  FAILURR. 


293 


liration.  Litoraturo  is  its  own  lucoinpcnso.  "Tho 
reward  of  a  good  scntonco  is  to  have  written  it,"  says 
Iliijg'insQn.  And  again,  "the  literary  man  must  love 
Ills  art,  as  the  painter  must  love  painting,  out  of  all 
proportion  to  its  rewards ;  or  rather,  the  delight  of 
the  work  must  be  its  own  reward."  Ten  thousand 
>m-v  Hippocrates  have  said  that  art  is  longer  than 
life.  Wiiatcver  I  undertook  to  do  scorned  long,  in- 
ttiniinably  long  it  seemed  to  me.  In  the  grammar 
(it"  mankind  it  requires  nearly  half  a  century  of  study 
to  learn  that  the  present  tense  t)f  life  is  now.  Nay, 
not  only  is  the  present  tense  now,  but  the  present  is 
the  only  tense;  the  past  for  us  is  gone;  the  future, 
who  shall  say  that  it  is  his? 

Looking  back  over  the  past  my  life  lies  spread 
before  me  in  a  series  of  lives,  a  succession  of  deaths 
and  new  life,  until  I  feel  myself  older  tlian  time, 
though  young  and  hopeful  in  my  latest,  newest  life. 
And  each  life  has  its  individual  jjrowth.  The  thousjht- 
till  student  of  books  is  an  endogenous  plant,  growing 
tniin  the  inside;  the  man  of  the  world  is  the  exoge- 
iiuiis,  or  outside-grower.  Each  has  its  advantage;  the 
inside-growers  are  cellular  and  fibrous,  while  the  out- 
tido-growers  are  woody  and  pithy. 

I  had  now  become  fully  imbued  with  the  idea  that 
tlicre  was  a  work  to  do,  and  that  this  was  my  work. 
I  "utered  upon  it  with  relish,  and  as  I  progressed  it 
satisfied  me.  The  truth  is,  I  found  myself  at  this 
time  nearer  the  point  reached  by  Gibbon  when  ho 
said,  "I  was  now  master  of  my  style  and  subject,  and 
while  the  measure  of  my  daily  performance  was  en- 
larged, I  discovered  less  reason  to  cancel  or  correct." 
ViV  reason  of  the  late  Roul-storms,  through  the  clear 
<h  V  atmosphere  of  my  present  surroundings,  the  dis- 
tant mountain  of  toilsome  ascent  was  brought  near 


and  made  inviting 


Following  a  fit  of  despondency,  a  triumph  was  like 
the  dancing  of  light  on  the  icy  foliage  after  a  gloomy 
stoini.     In  planning   and   executing,  in  loading  my 


! 

Ill 


^iM/i' '" 


i 


I  in 


If 
"if 

.■J  *  ■ 


\  i  I 


294 


MY  FIRST  BOOK. 


mind  and  discharging  it  on  paper,  in  finding  outlet 
and  expression  to  pent  thought,  in  the  healthful  exer- 
cise of  my  mental  faculties,  I  found  relief  such  as  I 
had  never  before  experienced,  relief  from  the  cor- 
roding melancholy  of  stifled  aspirations,  and  a  pleasure 
more  exquisite  than  any  I  had  hitherto  dreamed  of 
There  is  a  pivot  on  which  man's  happiness  and  un- 
happiness  not  unevenly  balance.  How  keen  this 
enjoyment  after  an  absence  or  break  of  any  kind  in 
my  labors.  Back  to  my  work,  my  sweet  work,  sur- 
rounded by  wife  and  children;  away  from  hates  and 
heart-burnings,  from  brutish  snarlings,  law  courts,  and 
rounds  of  dissipating  society;  back  to  the  labor  that 
fires  the  brain  and  thrills  the  heart.  For  weeks  after 
a  period  of  business  and  society  desiccation,  the  lite- 
rary worker  can  di  little  else  than  plant  himself  in  his 
closet,  day  after  day,  until  he  again  in  some  degree 
becomes  filled  with  his  subject. 

Hermonitas  thought  he  might  achieve  virtue,  as  it' 
by  scaling  a  mountain,  and  reach  the  top  in  twenty 
years.  "  iBut,"  said  he,  "  if  once  attained,  one  minute 
of  enjoyment  on  the  summit  will  fully  recompense  me 
for  all  the  time  and  pains." 

Let  the  world  wag.  There  might  be  wars,  convul- 
sions, earthquakes,  epidemics;  there  might  be  busi- 
ness or  social  troubles,  none  of  them  should  come 
nigh  so  long  as  I  had  my  library  and  my  labors  iii 
which  to  hide  myself  My  mind  had  hungered  for 
food,  and  had  found  it. 

"  The  consciouLaess  of  a  literary  mission,"  says 
Stoddard,  "is  an  agreeable  one ;  for  however  delusive 
it  may  bo,  it  raises  its  possessor  for  the  time  being 
above  his  fellows,  and  places  him  in  his  own  estima- 
tion among  the  benefactors  of  his  race."  With  Pliny 
I  can  heartily  say,  "  I  find  my  joy  and  solace  in  liteni- 
ture.  There  is  no  gladness  that  this  cannot  increase, 
no  sorrow  that  it  cannot  lessen." 

This,  however,  may  be  all  very  well  for  the  sorro\\', 
but  it  is  bad  for  the  literature.    Yet  Schubert  says: 


A  SOMBRE  SUBJECT. 


295 


"Grief  sharpens  tlie  understanding  and  strengthens 
the  soul,  whereas  joy  seldom  troubles  itself  about  the 
former,  and  makes  the  latter  eitlior  effeminate  or 
frivolous."  Sorrow  may  drive  a  man  to  study,  as  hun- 
ger does  to  labor,  but  as  labor  can  be  better  performed 
when  the  body  is  not  overcome  l)y  hunger,  so  litera- 
ture prospers  best  when  the  heart  is  free  from  grief. 

Though  ever  steadfast  in  my  purpose,  I  was  often 
obliged  to  change  plans.  I  kept  on,  however,  at 
the  history  until  I  had  completed  the  first  volume, 
until  I  had  written  fully  the  conquest  of  Darien  and 
the  conquest  of  Peru — until  I  had  rewritten  the 
volume,  the  first  writing  not  suiting  me.  This  I  did, 
taking  out  even  most  of  the  notes  myself.  But  long 
before  I  had  finished  this  volume  I  became  satisfietl 
that  something  must  be  done  with  the  aborigines. 
Wherever  I  touched  the  contment  with  my  Spaniards 
they  were  there,  a  dusky,  disgusting  subject.  I  did 
not  fancy  them.  I  would  gladly  have  avoided  them. 
T  was  no  archaeologist,  ethnologist,  or  antiquary,  and 
liad  no  desire  to  become  such.  My  tastes  in  the 
matter,  however,  did  not  dispose  of  the  subject.  The 
savages  were  there,  and  there  was  no  help  for  me ;  I 
nmst  write  them  up  to  get  rid  of  them. 

Nor  was  their  proper  place  the  general  history,  or 
any  of  the  several  parts  thereof;  I'or  was  it  the  place 
tf»  speak  of  them  where  first  encountered.  It  would 
not  do  to  break  off  a  nairative  of  events  in  order  to 
describe  the  manners  and  customs,  or  the  language, 
or  the  mythology  of  a  native  nation.  The  reader 
should  know  something  of  botli  peoples  thus  intro- 
duced to  each  other  before  passing  the  introduction; 
he  should  knoAV  all  about  them. 

Once  settled  that  the  natives  must  be  described  in 
a  work  set  apart  for  them,  the  question  arose,  How 
should  they  be  treated?  Uppermost  in  the  mind 
when  the  words  'Indian'  and  'Digger'  appeared  were 
the  ragged,  half-starved,  and  half-drunken  prowlers 


If) 


i'i 


296 


MY  FIRST  BOOK. 


round  the  outskirts  of  civilization,  cooped  in  reserva- 
tions or  huddled  in  missions;  and  a  book  on  them 
would  treat  of  their  thefts,  massacres,  and  capture. 
Little  else  than  raids,  fighting's,  and  exterminations 
we  heard  concerning  them;  these,  coupled  with  op- 
probrious epithets  wiiich  classed  them  as  cattle  ratlicr 
than  as  human  beings,  tended  in  no  wise  to  rendoi 
the  subject  fascinating  to  me.  Indeed  I  never  could 
bring  my  pen  to  write  the  words  '  buck,'  'squaw,'  or 
'  Digger,'  if  I  could  help  it.  The  lirst  two  arc 
vulgarisms  of  the  lowest  order;  the  third  belongs  to 
no  race  or  nation  in  particular,  but  was  applied  indis- 
criminately to  the  more  debased  natives  of  California 
and  Nevada, 

In  fact  the  subject  was  not  popularly  regarded  as 
very  interesting,  unless  formed  into  a  bundle  of 
thi'illing  tales,  and  that  was  exactly  what  I  would 
not  do.  Battles  and  adventures  belonged  to  history 
proper;  here  was  required  all  that  we  could  learn  of 
them  before  the  coming  of  the  Europeans:  some 
history,  all  that  they  had,  but  mostly  description. 
They  should  be  described  as  they  stood  in  all  their 
native  glory,  and  before  the  withering  hand  of  civil- 
ization was  laid  upon  them.  They  should  be  d< 
scribed  as  they  were  first  seen  by  Europeans  along 
the  several  paths  of  discovery,  by  the  conquerors  of 
Darien,  Costa  Rica,  Nicaragua,  Guatemala,  and 
Mexico,  during  the  first  half  of  the  sixteenth  century; 
by  the  missionaries  to  the  north;  by  the  American 
lur-hunters,  the  French  Canadian  trappers,  the  Hud- 
son's Bay  Company's  servants,  and  the  Russian  voy- 
agers and  seal -catchers  on  the  shores  of  Alaska; 
also  by  circunmavigators  and  travellers  in  various 
parts — thus  the  plan  presented  itself  to  my  mind. 

As  a  matter  of  course,  nuicli  personal  investiga- 
tion in  such  a  work  was  impossible.  For  the  purpose 
of  studying  the  character  and  customs  of  hundreds  of 
nations  and  tribes  I  could  not  spend  a  lifetime  with 
each;  and  to  learn  the  six  hundred  and  more  dialects 


DESCRIBING  THE  NATIVES. 


297 


which  I  found  on  these  shores  was  impracticable, 
even  had  they  all  been  spoken  at  the  time  of  my 
investigations.  I  must  take  the  word  of  those  who 
had  lived  among  these  people,  and  had  learned  during 
the  three  centuries  of  their  discovering  whatever  was 
kiK)wn  of  them. 

Spreading  before  me  the  subject  with  liardly  any 
other  guide  than  practical  common-sense,  I  resolved 
tlio  question  into  its  several  divisions.  What  is  it  we 
wish  to  know  about  these  people?  I  asked  myself. 
First,  their  appearance,  the  color  of  the  skin,  the  text- 
ure of  the  hair,  form,  features,  physique.  Then  there 
were  the  houses  in  which  they  lived,  the  food  they 
ate,  how  they  built  their  houses,  and  obtained  and 
preserved  their  food,  their  implements  and  weapons; 
tliorc  were  ornaments  and  dress  to  be  considered,  as 
well  as  many  other  questions,  such  as  what  constituted 
wealth  with  them;  their  government,  laws,  and  re- 
ligious institutions;  the  power  and  position  of  rulers, 
and  the  punishment  of  crimes;  the  arts  and  intel- 
lectual advancement;  family  relations,  husband  and 
wife,  children,  slaves;  the  position  of  woman,  in- 
cluding courtship,  marriage,  polygamy,  childbirth,  and 
chastity;  their  amusements,  dances,  games,  feasts, 
bathing,  smoking,  drinking,  gambling,  racing;  their 
diseases,  treatment  of  the  sick,  medicine-men;  their 
mourning,  burial,  and  many  other  like  topics  relative 
to  life  and  society  among  these  unlettered  denizens  of 
this  blooming  wilderness. 

Manners  and  customs  beinsf  the  common  tei'm  em- 
jiloyed  by  ethnologists  for  such  description,  unable 
to  tind,  after  careful  study  and  consideration  of  the 
question,  a  better  one,  I  adopted  it.  Tlie  first  division 
of  my  subject,  then,  was  the  manners  and  customs 
of  these  peoples.  But  here  a  difficulty  arose.  In 
]i<iiiits  of  intellectual  growth  and  material  progress, 
of  lelative  savagism  and  civilization,  there  were  such 
wide  differences  between  the  many  nations  of  the  vast 
Pacific  seaboard  that  to  bring  them  all  together  would 


298 


MY  FIRST  BOOK. 


uii 


make  an  incongruous  mass,  and  to  fit  them  to  one 
plan  would  be  far-fetched  and  impracticable. 

For  example,  there  were  the  snake-eating  Sho- 
shones  of  Utah,  and  the  cloth-makers  and  land-tillers 
of  the  Pueblo  towns  of  New  Mexico;  there  were 
the  blubber-eating  dwellers  of  the  subterranean  dens 
of  Alaska,  and  the  civilized  city-builders  of  the 
Mexican  table-land;  the  coarse  brutal  inhabitants  of 
British  Columbia,  and  the  refined  and  intelligent 
Mayas  and  Quiches  of  Central  America.  What  had 
these  in  common  to  be  described  more  than  Arab, 
Greek,  and  African? 

Obviously  there  must  be  some  division.  The  sub- 
ject could  not  be  handled  in  such  a  form.  Whatever 
might  be  their  relation  as  regards  the  great  continental 
divisions  of  the  human  family,  the  terms  race  and 
species  as  applied  to  the  several  American  nations  I 
soon  discovered  to  be  meaningless.  As  convincing; 
arguments  might  be  advanced  to  prove  them  of  ono 
race  as  of  twenty,  of  three  as  of  forty.  Some  call  the 
Eskimos  one  race,  and  all  the  rest  in  America  from 
Hudson  Bay  to  Tierra  del  Fuego  one  race.  Some 
segregate  the  Aztecs;  others  distinguish  the  Call- 
fornians  as  Malays,  and  the  natives  of  Brazil  as 
Africans.  I  soon  perceived  that  ethnologists  still 
remained  mystified  and  at  variance,  and  I  resolved 
not  to  increase  the  confusion. 

This  I  could  do:  I  could  group  them  geographi- 
cally, and  note  physique,  customs,  institutions,  behefs, 
and,  most  important  of  all,  languages;  then  he  who 
would  might  classify  them  according  to  race  and 
species.  In  all  my  work  I  was  determined  to  keep 
upon  firm  ground,  to  avoid  meaningless  and  even 
technical  terms,  to  avoid  theories,  speculations,  and 
superstitions  of  every  kind,  and  to  deal  only  in 
facts.  This  I  relied  on  more  than  on  any  other  ono 
thing.  My  work  could  not  be  wholly  worthless  if  1 
gathered  only  facts,  and  arranged  them  in  some  form 
which  should  bring  them  within  reach  of  those  who 


EVILS  OF  DOGMATISM. 


290 


had  not  access  to  my  material,  or  who  could  not  use 
it  if  they  had;  whereas  theories  mis^lit  be  overthrown 
as  worthless.  I  had  not  studied  long  the  many 
questions  arising  from  a  careful  survey  of  the  material 
brought  forth  and  arranged  for  my  Native  Races 
before  I  became  aware  that  many  things  which  were 
long  since  supposed  to  be  settled  were  not  settled,  and 
much  which  I  would  be  expected  to  decide  ncv^er 
could  be  decided  by  any  one.  The  more  I  thought  of 
these  things  the  stronger  became  an  inherent  repug- 
nance to  positiveness  in  cases  where  nothing  was 
positive. 

Often  we  hear  it  urged  upon  the  young,  "Get 
opinions,  make  up  your  mind  upon  the  leading  ques- 
sions  of  the  day,  and  once  having  formed  an  opinion, 
hold  it  fast."  All  matters  from  Moses  to  Darwin, 
all  disputed  questions  relative  to  this  world  and  the 
next,  are  to  be  forever  decided  in  the  mind  of  a 
young  man  just  setting  out  in  life,  and  whether  the 
conclusions  thus  jumped  at  be  right  or  wrong  they 
must  be  forever  fixed  and  immovable.  None  but  the 
ignorant  egoist,  or  one  with  an  ill-balanced  mind,  will 
attempt  to  arrive  at  fixed  conclusions  on  any  subject 
with  only  partial  data  before  him. 

Many  complained  because  I  did  not  settle  insol- 
uble questions  for  them,  because  I  did  not  determine 
beyond  peradventure  the  origin  of  the  Americans, 
where  they  came  from,  who  their  fathers  were,  and 
who  made  them.  But  far  more  found  this  absence  of 
vain  and  tiresome  speculation  commendable. 

Finally,  after  much  deliberation  to  enable  me  to 
grasp  the  subject  which  lay  spread  over  such  a  vast 
territory,  I  concluded  to  divide  manners  and  customs 
into  two  parts,  making  of  the  wild  or  savage  tribes 
one  division,  and  of  the  civilized  nations  another.  The 
civilized  nations  all  lay  together  in  two  main  families, 
tlie  Nahuas  of  central  Mexico  and  the  Mayas  of  Cen- 
tral America.  The  savage  tribes,  however,  extended 
from  the  extreme  north  to  the  extreme  southern  limits 


( 


300 


MY  FIRST  BOOK 


of  our  Pacific  States  territory,  completely  surround- 
ing the  civilized  nations.  The  wild  tribes,  therefore, 
must  be  grouped ;  and  I  could  reach  no  better  plan 
than  to  adopt  arbitrarily  territorial  divisions,  never 
dividing,  however,  a  nation,  tribe,  or  family  that 
seemed  clearly  one.  There  were  the  Pueblos  of  New 
Mexico,  who  could  be  placed  among  the  savage  or 
civilized  nations  according  to  convenience.  I  placed 
them  among  the  wild  tribes,  though  they  were  as  far 
in  advance  of  the  Nootkas  of  Vancouver  island  as 
the  Mayas  were  in  advance  of  the  Pueblos.  Indeed, 
like  most  of  these  expressions,  the  terms  savage  and 
civilized  are  purely  relative.  Where  is  the  absolute 
savage  on  the  face  of  the  earth  to-day;  where  tlio 
man  absolutely  perfect  in  his  civilization?  What  wo 
call  civilization  is  not  a  fixed  state,  but  an  irresistible 
and  eternal  moving  onward. 

The  groupings  1  at  last  adopted  for  the  Manno: 
and  Customs  of  the  Wild  Tribes  were:  Beginning  at 
the  extrcne  north,  all  those  nations  lying  north  of  the 
fifty-fifth  parallel  I  called,  arbitrarily.  Hyperboreans; 
to  those  whose  lands  were  drained  by  the  Columbia 
river  and  its  tributaries  I  gave  the  name  Columbians; 
the  Californians  included  in  their  division  the  inhab- 
itants of  the  great  basin ;  then  there  were  the  New 
Mexicans,  the  Wild  Tribes  of  Mexico,  and  the  Wild 
Tribes  of  Central  America.  There  was  no  special 
reason  in  beginning  at  the  north  rather  than  at  the 
south.  Indeed,  in  treating  the  subject  of  antiquities 
I  began  at  the  south,  but  this  was  partly  because  the 
chief  monumental  remains  were  in  Central  America 
and  Mexico,  and  few  of  importance  north  of  Mexico. 
And  there  were  other  topics  to  be  examined,  sueli 
as  languages,  myths,  and  architectural  remains;  and 
the  civilized  nations  had  their  own  written  history  to 
be  given. 

It  was  my  purpose  to  lay  before  the  world  absolutely 
all  that  was  known  of  these  peoples  at  the  time  of  the 
appearing  among  them  of  their  European  extermi- 


THE  BUILDING  OF  IT. 


301 


New 


the 


nators.  All  real  knowledge  of  them  I  would  present, 
and  their  history,  so  far  as  they  had  a  history.  I  had 
little  to  say  of  the  aborigines  or  their  deeds  since  the 
coming  of  the  Europeans,  of  their  wars  against  in- 
vaders and  among  themselves ;  of  repartimientos,  pre- 
sidios, missions,  reservations,  and  other  institutions  for 
their  conquest,  conversion,  protection,  or  oppression. 
!My  reason  for  this  was  that  all  these  things,  so  far  as 
thuy  possessed  importance,  belonged  to  tlie  modern 
liistory  of  the  country  where  they  were  to  receive  due 
attention.  The  wild  tribes  in  the  absence  of  written 
records  had  very  little  history,  and  that  little  was 
mingled  with  the  crudest  of  supernatural  conceptions. 

Besides  these  several  branches  of  the  subject  I 
could  think  of  no  others.  These  included  all  that  re- 
lated in  any  wise  to  their  temporalities  or  their  spirit- 
ualities; everything  relating  to  mind,  soul,  body,  and 
estate,  language,  and  literature.  The  last  mentioned 
subjects,  namely,  myths,  languages,  antiquities,  and 
liistory,  I  thought  best  to  treat  separately,  and  for 
the  following  reasons:  The  myths  of  these  peoples, 
their  strange  conceptions  of  their  origin,  their  deities, 
and  their  future  state,  would  present  a  much  more  per- 
fect and  striking  picture  placed  together  where  they 
might  the  better  be  analyzed  and  compared.  And  so 
with  languages  and  the  others.  These  might  or  might 
not  be  taken  up  territorially;  in  this  respect  I  would 
be  governed  by  the  subject-matter  at  the  time  I 
treated  it.  It  resulted  that  as  a  rule  they  were  so 
treated;  that  is,  beginning  at  one  end  or  the  other  of 
the  territory  and  proceeding  systematically  to  the  other 
end.  Myths  and  languages  each  begin  at  the  north; 
antiquities  proceed  from  the  south;  history  is  con- 
riiicd  mostly  to  the  table-lands  of  Mexico  and  Central 
Aiporica,  and  had  no  need  of  territorial  treatment. 

All  this  I  hoped  to  condense,  at  the  outset,  into  two 
volumes,  the  first  of  which  would  comprise  the 
inauners  and  customs  of  both  savage  and  civilized 
tribes,  the  other  divisions  filling  the  second  volume. 


302 


MY  FIRST  BOOK. 


rii  i 


But  I  soon  saw  that,  after  the  severest  and  most  per- 
sistent compressing,  the  manners  and  customs  of  the 
wild  tribes  alone  would  fill  a  volume.  In  each  of  the 
six  great  territorial  divisions  of  this  branch  of  the 
subject  there  was  much  in  common  with  all  the  rest. 
A  custom  or  characteristic  once  mentioned  was  seldom 
again  described,  differences  only  being  noticed;  but 
in  every  nation  there  was  much  which,  though  gener- 
ally similar  to  like  characteristics  in  other  tribes,  so 
differed  in  minor  if  not  in  main  particulars  as  to  de- 
mand a  separate  description.  Hence  I  was  obliged 
either  to  take  more  space  or  let  the  varying  customs 
go  unnoticed,  and  the  latter  course  I  could  not  make 
up  my  mind  to  adopt. 

So  the  first  volume  became  two  almost  at  tho  out- 
set; for  it  was  soon  apparent  that  the  portraiture  of 
the  civilized  nations — a  description  of  their  several 
eras;  their  palaces,  households,  and  government;  their 
castes  and  classes,  slaves,  tenure  of  land,  and  taxa- 
tion; their  education,  marriage,  concubinage,  child- 
birth, and  baptism;  their  feasts  and  amusements;  their 
food,  dress,  commerce,  and  war  customs;  their  laws 
and  law  courts,  their  arts  and  manufactures;  their 
calendar  and  picture-writing;  their  architecture,  bo- 
tanical gardens,  medicines,  funeral  rites,  and  the  like — 
would  easily  fill  a  volume. 

Proceeding  further  in  the  work  it  was  ascertained 
that  myths  and  languages  would  together  require  a 
volume;  that  the  subject  of  antiquities,  with  tho 
necessary  three  or  four  hundred  illustrations,  would 
occupy  a  volume,  and  that  the  primitive  history  of 
the  Nahuas  and  Mayas,  with  which  Brasseur  de 
Bourbourg  filled  four  volumes,  could  not  be  properly 
written  in  less  than  one. 

Thus  we  sec  the  two  volumes  swollen  to  five,  even 
then  one  of  the  principal  difficulties  in  the  work  being 
to  confine  the  ever  swelling  subjects  within  these 
rigidly  prescribed  limits.  So  great  is  the  tendency, 
so  much  easier  is  it,  when  one  has  an  interesting  sub- 


TREATMENT  OP  THE  SUBJECT. 


303 


joct,  to  write  it  out  and  revel  in  description,  rather 
than  to  cramp  it  into  a  somer.mes  distorting  com- 
pass, that  whatever  I  take  up  is  almost  sure  to  over- 
run first  calculations  as  to  space. 

Five  volumes,  then,  comprised  the  Native  Races  of 
the  Pacific  States:  the  first  being  the  Wild  Tribes, 
their  manners  and  customs;  the  second,  the  Civilized 
Nations  of  Mexico  and  Central  America;  the  third, 
Myths  and  Languages  of  both  savage  and  civilized 
nations;  the  fourth.  Antiquities,  including  Architect- 
ural remains;  and  the  fifth.  Primitive  History  and 
^Migrations.  A  copious  index,  filling  one  hundred  and 
sixt3^-two  pages,  and  referring  alphabetically  to  each 
of  the  ten  or  twelve  thousand  subjects  mentioned  in 
the  five  volumes,  completed  the  work. 

Maps  showing  the  locations  of  the  aborigines  ac- 
cording to  their  nation,  family,  and  tribe,  were  intro- 
duced wherever  necessary,  the  first  volume  containing 
six,  one  for  each  of  the  great  territorial  divisions. 

Such  was  the  plan;  now  as  to  the  execution.  As 
the  scheme  was  entirely  my  own,  as  I  had  consulted 
with  no  one  outside  of  the  library  about  it,  and  with 
my  assistants  but  little,  I  had  only  to  work  it  out 
after  my  own  fashion. 

The  questions  of  race  and  species  settled,  to  my 
own  satisfaction  at  least,  in  an  Ethnological  Introduc- 
tion, which  constitutes  the  first  chapter  of  the  first 
volume,  I  brought  together  for  following  chapters  all 
the  material  touching  the  first  main  division,  the 
Hyperboreans,  and  proceeded  to  abstract  it.  It  was 
somewhat  confusing  to  me  at  first  to  determine  the 
subjects  to  be  treated  and  the  order  in  which  I  should 
name  them;  but  sooner  than  I  had  anticipated  there 
arose  in  my  mind  what  I  conceived  to  be  natural 
sequence  in  all  these  things,  and  there  was  little  diffi- 
culty or  hesitation.  Above  all  things  I  sought  sim- 
plicity in  style,  substance,  and  arrangement,  fully 
realizing  that  the  more  easily  I  could  make  myself 
understood,  the  better  my  readers  would  be  pleased. 


804 


MY  FIRST  BOOK. 


I 


II'' 


III 


One  of  the  most  difficult  parts  of  the  work  was  to 
locate  the  tribes  and  compile  the  maps.  Accurately 
to  define  the  boundaries  of  primitive  nations,  much 
of  the  time  at  war  and  migrating  with  the  seasons,  is 
impossible,  from  the  fact  that,  although  they  aim  to 
have  limits  of  their  lands  well  defined,  these  bound- 
aries are  constantly  shifting.  The  best  I  could  do 
was  to  take  out  all  information  relative  to  the  location 
of  every  tril)c,  bring  together  what  each  author  had 
said  upon  the  diftercnt  peoples,  and  print  it  in  his 
own  language,  under  the  heading  Tribal  Boundaries, 
in  small  type  at  the  end  of  every  chapter. 

Thus  there  were  as  many  of  these  sections  on  tribal 
boundaries  as  there  were  divisions;  and  from  these  I 
had  drawn  a  large  ethnographical  map  of  the  whole 
Pacific  States,  from  which  were  engraved  the  subdi- 
visions inserted  at  the  beginning  of  each  section.  In 
this  way  eveiy  available  scrap  of  material  in  existence 
was  used  and  differences  as  far  as  possible  were  recon- 
ciled. 

When  my  first  division  was  wholly  written  I  sub- 
mitted it  in  turn  to  each  of  my  principal  assistants, 
and  invited  their  criticism,  assuring  them  that  I 
should  be  best  pleased  with  him  who  could  find  most 
fault  with  it.  A  number  of  suggestions  were  made, 
some  of  which  I  acted  on.  In  general  the  plan  as 
first  conceived  was  carried  out;  and  to-day  I  do  not 
see  how  it  could  be  changed  for  the  better.  I  then 
went  on  and  explained  to  my  assistants  how  I  had 
reached  the  results,  and  giving  to  each  a  division  I 
requested  them  in  like  manner  to  gather  and  arrange 
the  material,  and  place  it  before  me  in  the  best  toiiu 
possible  for  my  use.  During  the  progress  of  this 
work  I  succeeded  in  utilizing  the  labors  of  mv  assist- 
ants  to  the  full  extent  of  my  anticipations;  indeed,  it 
was  necessary  I  should  do  so.  Otherwise  from  a  quar- 
ter to  a  half  century  would  have  been  occupied  in  this 
one  work.  Without  taking  into  account  the  indexing 
of  thousands  of  volumes  merely  to  point  out  where 


UTILIZATION  OP  ASSIST.VNCE. 


805 


material  existed,  or  the  collecting  of  the  material, 
there  was  in  each  of  these  five  volumes  tlie  work  of 
til'tocn  men  for  eight  months,  or  of  one  man  for  ten 
years.  This  estimate,  I  say,  carefully  made  after  the 
work  was  done,  showed  that  there  had  been  expended 
the  Native  Races  labor  equivalent  to  the  well  di- 


oll 


icctcd  efll'orts  of  one  man,  every  day,  Sundays  ex- 
c'litcd,  from  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning  till  six  at 
iii^ht,  for  a  period  of  fifty  years.  In  this  estimate  I  do 
iKtt  include  the  time  lost  in  unsuccessful  experiments, 
hut  only  the  actual  time  employed  in  taking  out  the 
luatorial,  writing  the  work,  preparing  the  index  for  the 
tivt'  volumes, which  alone  was  one  year's  labor,  proof- 
reading, and  comparison  with  authorities.  The  last  two 
icquirements  consumed  an  immense  amount  of  time, 
tUo  proof  being  read  eight  or  nine  times,  and  every 
reference  compared  with  the  original  authority  after 
the  work  Avas  in  type.  This  seemed  to  mo  necessary 
to  insure  accuracy,  on  account  of  the  many  foreign 
laii'^uagcs  in  which  the  authorities  were  written,  and 
the  nmltitude  of  native  and  strange  words  which 
crowded  my  pages.  Both  text  and  notes  were  re- 
written, compared,  and  corrected  without  limit,  until 
they  were  supposed  to  be  perfect;  and  I  venture  to  say 
that  never  a  work  of  that  character  and  magnitude 
went  to  press  finally  with  fewer  errors. 

Fifty  years  1  I  had  not  so  many  to  spare  upon  this 
work.  Possibly  I  might  die  before  the  time  had  ex- 
pired or  the  volumes  were  completed;  and  what 
should  I  do  with  the  two  or  three  hundred  years'  ad- 
ditional work  planned? 

AVhen  the  oracle  informed  Mycerinus  that  he  had 
but  six  years  to  live,  he  thought  to  outwit  the  gods 
by  iiiaking  the  night  as  day.  Lighting  his  lamps  at 
nightfall  he  feasted  until  morning,  thus  striving  to 
double  his  term.  I  must  multiply  my  days  in  some 
way  to  do  this  work.  I  had  attempted  the  trick  of 
Mycerinus,  but  it  would  not  succeed  with  me,  for 
straightway  the  outraged  deities  ordained  that  for 

Lit.  Inc.    20 


» 


aw  MY  FIRST  BOOK. 

every  hour  so  stolon  I  must  repay  fourfold.  The  work 
of  my  assistants,  besides  saving  me  an  immense  amount 
of  drudgery  and  manual  labor,  left  my  mind  always 
fresh,  and  open  to  receive  and  retain  the  subject  as  a 
whole.  I  could  institute  comparisons  and  indulge  in 
generalizations  more  freely,  and  I  believe  more  effoot- 
ually,  than  with  my  mind  overwhelmed  by  a  mass  of 
detail.  I  do  not  know  how  far  others  have  carried 
this  system.  Herbert  Spencer,  I  believe,  derived 
much  help  from  assistants.  German  authors  have  tlio 
faculty  of  multiplying  their  years  with  the  aid  of 
others  in  a  greater  degree  than  any  other  people. 
Besides  having  scholars  m  various  parts  of  the  country 
at  work  for  him,  Bunsen  employed  five  or  six  secre- 
taries. Professors  in  the'  German  universities  are 
most  prolific  authors,  and  these  almost  to  a  man  have 
the  assistance  of  one  or  two  students. 

Thus  says  Hurst:  "While  the  real  author  is  re- 
sponsible for  every  word  that  goes  out  under  his 
own  name,  and  can  justly  claim  the  parentage  of  the 
whole  idea,  plan,  and  scope  of  the  work,  he  is  spared 
nmch  of  the  drudgery  incident  to  all  book-making 
which  is  not  the  immediate  first  fruit  of  imagination. 
Where  history  is  to  be  ransacked,  facts  to  be  grouperl, 
and  matters  of  pure  detail  to  be  gleaned  from  various 
sources,  often  another  could  do  better  service  than 
the  author."  The  young  Germans  who  thus  assist 
authors,  highly  prize  the  discipline  by  means  of  which 
they  often  become  authors  themselves.  At  Hallo, 
during  his  half  century  of  labor,  Tholuck  had  several 
theological  students  at  work  i^^v  him,  some  of  whom 
were  members  of  his  own  i^i,niil .'.  And  thence  pro- 
ceeded several  famous  aut]<aT,s,  among  whom  were 
Kurtz  and  Held.  So  Jacobi  and  Piper  started  forth 
from  Neander.  And  the  system  is  growing  in  favor 
in  the  United  States. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 


THE  PERILS  OF  PUBLISHINO. 


Murci^Iagos  literarios 
Que  haceis  &  pluma  y  A  pelOi 
Si  querela  viyir  con  todos 
Mirtos  en  este  espejo. 

Iriarte, 

All  the  anxiety  I  had  hitherto  felt  in  regard  to 
the  Native  Races  was  as  author  thereof;  now  I  had  to 
undergo  the  trials  of  publishing. 

Business  experience  had  taught  me  that  the  imme- 
diate recognition,  even  of  a  work  of  merit,  depends 
almost  as  much  on  the  manner  of  bringing  it  forth 
as  upon  authorship.  So  easily  swayed  are  those  who 
pass  judgment  on  the  works  of  authors;  so  greatly 
arc  they  ruled  by  accidental  or  incidental  causes  who 
form  for  the  public  their  opinion,  that  pure  substantial 
merit  is  seldom  fully  and  alone  recognized. 

I  do  not  mean  by  this  that  the  better  class  of 
critics  are  either  incompetent  or  unfair,  that  they 
cannot  distinguish  a  meritorious  work  from  a  worth- 
less one,  or  that,  having  determined  the  value  of  a 
production  in  their  own  minds,  they  will  not  so  write 
it  down.  Yet  comparatively  speaking  there  are  few 
reviewers  of  this  class.  Many  otherwise  good  jour- 
nals, both  in  America  and  in  Europe,  publish  miserable 
book  notices. 

To  illustrate:  Would  the  average  newspaper  pub- 
lisher on  the  Pacific  coast  regard  with  the  same  eyes 
a  book  thrust  suddenly  and  unheralded  upon  his  at- 
tention as  the  production  of  a  person  whom  he  had 
uever  known  except  as  a  shopkeeper,  one  whom  he 

(307) 


808 


THE  PERILS  OF  PUBLISHING. 


!;  '.m 
1«    -  .) 


'I 


had  never  suspected  of  aspiring  to  literature,  as  if  the 
same  book  were  placed  before  him  with  explanation, 
:  iid  bearing  upon  it  the  approving  stamp  of  those 
whose  opinions  must  overrule  even  his  own;  would 
he  handle  it  with  the  same  hands,  and  would  the  print 
of  it,  and  the  paper,  binding,  and  subject-matter,  and 
stylo  of  it  be  to  him  the  same? 

How  diflerciitly  the  most  discriminating,  for  thi- 
moment  at  least,  would  regard  a  volume  of  verses  it' 
told  beforcliand  that  in  the  writer  burned  briijhtlv  tin,' 
fires  of  genius,  or  if  with  ridicule  he  was  pronounced 
an  illiterate  crack-brained  rliymster.  How  mucli  has 
the  lewdness  of  Byron  and  the  religious  infidelity  til' 
Shelley  to  do  with  our  appreciation  of  their  poems '. 
Lamartine  called  the  author  of  Cosmos,  before  Hum- 
boldt had  made  his  greatest  reputation,  "a  cltnci' 
man,  but  without  much  real  merit."  '*  Motley,"  writes 
Mc'rimee  to  his  Incognita,  "though  an  American  is  a 
man  of  talent."  ITere  was  sound  judgment,  in  diK^ 
time,  seen  rising  above  prejudice.  Sannazaro,  the 
Italian  poet,  for  an  epigram  of  six  lines  on  the  beauty 
of  Venice  received  six  hundred  ducats  from  the  Ve- 
netian senate.  Vet  who  reads  Sannazaro  now  ?  The 
pride  of  these  old  men  was  flattered,  and  the  scniti- 
mont  went  farther  with  thein  than  merit.  Yet  tliere 
is  no  study  productive  of  liigher  results,  and  sucli  ;i- 
are  the  most  beneficial  to  tlio  race  than  the  life  .md 
labors  of  ])rominent  men;  for  in  it  we  find  all  tliat 
is  host  of  both  history  and  l)iogra[)hy.  PericKs 
boasted  that  at  Athens  sour  looks  were  not  thrown 
by  Ins  neighbors  upon  a  man  on  account  of  his  eecen- 
tricities. 

Addison  wished  to  know  his  author  before  reading 
his  works;  Do  Quincey,  afterward.  Yet  many,  in 
forming  the  ac(piaintance  of  an  author,  like  best  the 
natural  way ;  that  is,  as  one  forms  the  acquaintanee 
of  the  man  :  first  an  introduction,  which  shall  tell  who 
and  what  he  is,  time  and  place  of  birth,  education  ami 


PUKDILKCTION.S   OK   AUTHORS. 


occupation.  Then  let  it  he  seen  what  he  has  done  to 
demand  attention;  give  of  the  lal)()r.s  of  his  brain 
some  of  tlie  fruits ;  and  if  hy  tliis  time  they  have  not 
had  enouj^h  of  him,  they  wiU  enter  with  rehsh  into  the 
details  of  his  hfo,  habits,  temper,  and  pecuharities. 

Hordes  of  hterary  adventurers  are  constantly 
cuuiing  and  goin;^',  not  one  in  a  thousj^nd  of  whom 
will  be  known  a  century  hence;  and  among  these  aro 
so-called  scientists  with  their  long-drawn  speculations 
and  unansw  ;rable  theoi'ios,  to  say  nothing  of  doctors 
iif  \arious  degrees  and  instructors  in  supernatural 
sleight-of-hand. 

I'hilosophers  are  these  fellows  after  the  order  of 
Diogenes  the  cynic.  "One  needs  no  education,"  they 
say  with  their  master,  "or  reading,  or  such  nonsense, 
fur  this  system;  it  is  the  real  short  cut  to  reputation. 
Be  you  the  most  ordinary  person,  cobbler,  sausage- 
mmigcr,  carpenter,  })awnbroker,  nothing  hindci's  your 
beotiming  the  object  of  popular  admiration,  ])rovided 
only  that  you've  impudence  enough,  and  brass  enough, 
and  a  happy  talent  for  bad  language."  Almost  every 
man  endowed  with  talents  which  woidd  win  success  in 
i<\u-  Held  aflects,  or  has  some  time  in  his  life  afiected, 
a  jairsuit  for  which  he  has  no  talent.  Bentley,  Sainte- 
Beuve,  and  many  another,  fancied  themselves  great 
{imts  when  criticism  only  was  their  forte.  Praise 
<  iiiardet's  pictures  and  he  brings  you  his  verses;  praise 
Cano\  a's  sculpture  and  he  brings  a  [)icture.  The  good 
coll  lie  actor  often  cares  little  for  comedy,  but  delights 
in  tragedy;  if  Douglas  Jerrold,  tlu;  successful  wit,coidd 
"Illy  write  on  natural  philosophy  la)  would  be  a  made 
nian.  To  his  dying  day  Sainto-lleuve  did  not  cease 
til  lament  his  slighted  muse;  yet  he  would  never  have 
Ikciiuc  a  poet,  even  had  he  written  a,5  many  lines  as 
till,'  Persian  Ferdosi  who  in  thirty  years  ground  out 
"nc  lnuidred  and  twenty  thousand  verses.  After  his 
thill  1  failure  he  abandoned  the  idea  of  further  attempts 
ai  publishing  j;  '.cry  and  confined  himself  to  criticism. 
Croethe  says:    "Dor  Mensch  mag  sich  wenden  woliin 


ife 


T; 


■m 


\m 


310 


THE  PERILS  OF  PUBLISHINa 


mm 


iri'i 


!  IB  II'  ill  g  ' 


ii 


Ml ' 


m 


iii:i' 


wmv 


er  will,  er  mag  unternehmen  was  es  auch  sey,  stets 
wird  er  auf  jenen  Weg  wieder  zuriickkehren,  den  ilim 
die  Natur  einmal  vorgezeichnet  hat."  In  his  younger 
days  Jean  Paul  Richter  fancied  that  his  genius  was 
especially  adapted  to  satire,  when  nothing  was  further 
from  his  nature. 

In  ranging  the  field  of  modem  literature,  one  can 
but  observe  upon  how  slight  a  foundation  some  repu- 
tations have  been  built;  not  slight  as  regards  alono 
the  quantity  of  work  done,  but  the  quality.  Fortu- 
nately for  mankind  such  reputations  never  last.  Tlu; 
public  may  be  for  the  moment  deceived,  but  time  is 
a  true  measure  of  values.  No  book  can  live  for  lilty 
years  unless  it  has  merit;  and  no  meritorious  book  in 
these  present  days  can  remain  very  long  hidden. 

There  is  a  dift'erence  in  books  in  this  respect,  how- 
ever. Scientific  data,  for  example,  might  be  faitli- 
fully  collected  from  a  new  field  by  an  unknown  auth(  )r 
and  brouixht  to  the  lisrht  in  a  far-off  corner  of  the 
literary  world,  there  remaining  unnoticed  for  sonic 
time  before  scholars  should  hear  of  it.  This  misfor- 
tune, assuming  that  my  work  was  meritorious,  I  was 
anxious  to  avoid. 

Experience  had  told  me  that  a  book  written,  printed, 
and  published  at  this  date  on  the  Pacific  coast,  no 
matter  how  meritorious  or  by  whom  sent  forth,  that 
is  to  say  if  done  by  any  one  worth  the  castigating", 
would  surely  be  condemned  by  some  and  praised 
coldly  and  critically  by  others.  There  are  innume?- 
able  local  prejudices  abroad  which  prevent  us  from 
recognizing  to  the  fullest  extent  the  merits  of  our 
neighbor.  Least  of  all  would  a  work  of  mine  be 
judged  solely  upon  its  merits.  Trade  engenders  com- 
petition, and  competition  creates  enemies.  There  wore 
hundreds  in  California  who  damned  me  every  day, 
and  to  please  this  class  as  well  as  themselves  there 
were  newspaper  writers  who  would  like  nothing  better 
than,  by  sneers  and  innuendoes,  to  consign  the  fruits 
of  laborious  years  to  oblivion. 


UlfFAIR  CRITICISM. 


311 


"  This  man  is  getting  above  his  business,"  some 
would  say.  "  Because  ho  can  sell  books  he  seems  to  infer 
a  divine  mission  to  write  them.  Now  it  may  be  as  well 
first  as  last  for  him  to  understand  that  merchandising 
and  authorship  are  two  distinct  things;  that  a  com- 
mercial man  who  has  dealt  in  books  as  he  would  deal 
in  bricks,  by  count,  weight,  or  dollars'  worth,  cannot 
•suddenly  assume  to  know  all  things  and  set  himself 
up  as  a  teacher  of  mankind.  He  must  be  put  down. 
Such  arrogance  cannot  be  countenanced.  If  writing 
IS  thus  made  common  our  occupation  is  gone." 

All  did  not  so  feel;  but  there  was  more  of  such 
sentiment  behind  editorial  spectacles  than  editors 
would  admit  even  to  themselves.  I  have  seen  through 
,.ni,  usy,  or  conscienceless  meanness,  the  fruits  of  a 
;4('!>  nan's  best  da3'^s  thrown  to  the  dogs  by  some 
'lil>[)ant  remark  of  an  unprincipled  critic.  Tuthill's 
history  of  California  was  a  good  l)ook,  the  best  by 
I'ar  which  up  to  its  time  had  bi.cn  written  on  the  sub- 
ject. It  v'cisi  in  the  main  truthful  and  reliable.  The 
author  was  a  conscientious  worker;  lying  was  foreign 
to  his  nature;  he  spent  his  last  days  on  this  work, 
and  on  his  death-bed  corrected  the  proofs  as  they 
l)assed  from  the  press.  And  yet  there  were  those 
auiongf  his  brother  editors  in  California  who  did  not 
scruple,  when  the  book  was  placed  in  their  hands  for 
luvien,  to  ctuor  their  criticism  from  some  insignificant 
flaws  whicli  iht }'  pretended  to  have  discovered,  and 
so  consign  a  x"a; '.liful,  true  history  of  this  coast  to  per- 
dition, 1  x'M.i't  the  author  had  taken  a  step  or  two 
alidve  th';ni. 

To  local  fa.,  r.  or  a  literary  reputation  restricted  to 
(nilifornia,  I  did  not  attach  much  value.  Not  that  I 
A>as  indifferent  to  the  opinions  of  my  neghbors,  or  that 
I  distrusted  Pacific-coast  journalists  as  a  class.  I  had 
among  them  many  warm  friends  whoso  approbation  T 
coveted.  But  at  this  juncture  I  did  not  desire  the 
criticisr  cither  of  enemies  or  friends,  but  of  strangers ; 
I  was  ••  .iirous  above  all  that  my  book  should  be  first 


I 


rii 


m 


a.' 


mi 


a 'I 


:  I 


11 


312 


THE  PERILS  OF  PUBLISHIXQ. 


reviewed  on  its  merits  and  by  disinterested  and  un- 
prejudiced men.  Adverse  criticism  at  home,  "here  the 
facts  were  supposed  to  be  better  Ivuown,  might  injure 
me  abroad,  while  if  prejudiced  in  my  favor,  the  critic 
might  give  an  opinion  which  would  be  negatived  by 
those  of  New  England  or  of  Europe.  Besides,  I  could 
not  but  feel,  if  my  work  was  wortli  anything,  if  it  A\as 
a  work  worth  doinij:  and  well  done,  that  the  hiijher 
the  scholar,  or  the  literary  laborer,  the  higher  to  him 
would  appear  its  value. 

The  reason  is  obvious.  I  dealt  in  facts,  gathered 
from  new  fields  and  conveniently  arranged.  These 
were  the  raw  material  for  students  in  the  several 
branches  of  scion  i'i\  and  for  philosophers  in  theh 
generalisations.  ]\i_)  .  ories,  if  I  indulged  in  any, 
would  be  worse  than  tn  \vi\  away  on  them.  This  was 
their  work;  they  would  theorize,  and  generalize,  and 
deduce  for  themselves.  But  they  would  not  despist; 
my  flicts;  for  were  they  as  mighty  as  Closes  they 
could  not  make  bricks  without  straw.  Hence  it  was 
by  the  verdict  of  the  best  men  of  the  United  States, 
of  England,  Franco,  and  Germany,  the  world's  rij)est 
scholars  and  dL'e[)est  thinkers,  that  my  contribu- 
tions to  knowledge  must  stand  or  fall,  and  not  l)y 
the  wishes  of  my  friends  or  the  desire  of  my  enemies. 
This  is  why,  I  say,  a  home  reputation  aloro  never 
would  have  satisfied  me,  never  would  have  paid  mo 
for  my  sacrifice  of  time,  labor,  and  many  of  the 
amenities  of  life. 

To  reach  these  results,  which  were  as  clearly  defined 
in  my  mind  l)efore  as  after  their  accom])lishment, 
involved  a  journey  to  tiie  eastern  states.  Yet  before 
leaving'  this  coast  on  such  a  mission  there  should  bo 
some  recognition  of  my  eftorts  here.  It  were  not  best 
for  me  to  leave  my  state  entirely  unheralded.  If  those 
who  knew  me  best,  who  lived  beside  me,  who  fre- 
quented my  library  and  should  know  of  my  laboi" , 
if  these  had  nothing  to  say,  woukl  it  not  appear  some- 


EXAMINATION  INVITED. 


313 


defined 
inient, 
before 

)uld  bo 
)t  best 
;'  tlio.so 

lO     iVl'- 

labof', 
■  Home- 


wliat  strange  to  those  at  a  distance  before  whom  I 
was  now  about  to  make  pretensions? 

Up  to  this  time,  about  the  beginning  of  1874, 1  had 
f;|iuken  httle  of  my  work  to  any  one,  preferring  to 
M.'conipHsh  something  first  and  then  point  to  what  I 
IkkI  done  rather  than  talk  about  what  I  intended  to 
do.  I  was  fully  aware  that  often  the  rei)utation  which 
|m  cedes  performance  is  greater  than  that  which  comes 
ai'trr  it,  hence  I  would  husband  whatever  good  was  to 
l)c  said  of  me  until  it  had  something  to  rest  on. 
During  the  previous  year  several  notices  had  crept 
into  the  papers,  mostly  through  visitors  from  the  east, 
concerning  the  library  and  the  work  going  on  there. 
M(nil)crs  of  the  San  Fran^  'sco  press  often  came  to  me 
liii'  information,  but  were  a  kcd  to  wait  till  I  was 
ready  to  publish  something  on  the  subject.  At  })res- 
ciit  all  I  desired  w^as  to  be  let  alone. 

AVlicn  the  plan  of  the  Natire  Rcces  was  fully  set- 
tled, and  the  first  volume,  and  parts  of  the  second 
and  third  volumes  were  in  type,  I  invited  a  num- 
licr  of  men  eminent  in  their  several  callings,  and 
ill  wliom  I  knew  the  public  had  confidence,  to  in- 
spect my  work  and  report.  Among  these  were  Brantz 
Mayer,  author  of  several  works  on  Mexico;  Benjamin 
P.  .Vvery,  editor  of  the  Overland  Monthhj,  and  shortly 
alter  minister  to  China;  Daniel  C.  Gilman,  president 
of  the  university  of  California;  J.  Boss  Browne, 
luubably  the  foremost  writer  on  the  coast;  Frederick 
AVhynipcr,  author  of  a  work  on  Alaska;  and  others. 

The  opinions  formed  from  these  investigations  were 
Iniwardod  to  me  in  the  form  of  letters,  wliich  1  printed 
as  a  eirculrr,  adding  to  my  list  of  letters  Irom  time  to 
tiuKj  until  the  circular  reached  sixteen  pages  of  flat- 
tering testimonials. 

Some  of  these  men  were  exceedingly  interested 
and  astonished.  There  was  Professor  (ieurge  Da- 
vidson, 1  remember,  for  many  y(;ars  at  the  head  of 
tlif  Ignited  States  coast  survey,  president  of  the 
Califdrnia  academy  of  sciences,  and  in  every  respect 


314 


THE  PERILS  OF  PUBLISHING. 


one  of  the  first  scientific  men  of  the  age.  He  hap- 
pened to  be  absent  from  the  city  when  I  issued  my 
first  invitations,  and  on  his  return  I  sent  GoldschmiJt 
to  him  with  a  copy  of  the  Native  Races,  as  far  as 
printed,  for  his  examination. 

Goldschmidt  found  the  professor  in  his  rear  office, 
stated  his  errand,  and  laid  the  printed  pages  before 
him.  Davidson  looked  at  them,  looked  at  the  list  of 
twelve  hundred  authorities  quoted  which  stood  at 
the  beginning  of  volume  i.,  turned  over  the  leaves, 
dropped  now  and  then  an  ejaculation,  but  said  little. 
Presently  his  colored  attendant  came  to  the  door  and 
addressed  him. 

"A  gentleman  wishes  to  see  you."  No  response. 
The  black  man  retired;  but  it  was  not  long  before  he 
appeared  again  with  a  similar  message. 

"All  right,"  returned  Davidson. 

Some  ten  or  fifteen  minutes  now  elapsed,  during 
which  the  professor  was  examining  the  pages  and 
asking  Goldschmidt  questions.  Again  the  black  liico 
appeared  at  the  portal,  this  time  wrinkled  by  porten- 
tous concern. 

"There  are  four  or  five  men  in  the  outer  oJtico 
waiting  to  speak  with  you,  sir." 

"Very  well,  let  them  waitl"  exclaimed  the  profes- 
sor. "Such  work  as  this  doesn't  fall  into  my  hands 
every  day." 

Though  I  had  not  then  met  Professor  Davidson, 
I  admired  him,  and  valued  his  opinion  highly. 
If  from  disinterested  intelligent  men  my  efforts 
could  not  secure  approval,  I  felt  that  I  need  go  no 
farther. 

Among  the  literary  notes  of  the  Overland  Mondili/ 
for  March  1874  appeared  a  brief  account  of  the  col- 
lecting and  indexing,  with  intimation  that  the  mass 
was  to  be  sifted  and  the  results  given  to  the  world  in 
some  shape.  This  notice  of  the  library  was  copied 
by  several  of  the  daily  newspapers. 

Next  appeared  a  long  article  in  the  same  inagu- 


THE  NAME    'PACIFIC   STATES.' 


315 


zine  of  June  1874,  under  the  headini?  of  "Some 
liare  Books  about  California."  The  Overland  was 
the  first  and  indeed  the  only  literary  journal  of  any 
jirctensions  west  of  the  Rocky  mountains.  The  arti- 
cle was  based  on  the  library,  and  treated  of  the 
rare  historical  works  it  contained,  but  no  allusion 
whatever  was  made  to  the  Native  Races,  or  any  other 
work  undertaken  or  in  contemplation,  except  that  it 
spoke  of  a  bibliography  of  the  coast  which  sometime 
might  bo  made  b}-  somebody,  also  of  writers  in  and 
on  California,  and  again  alluded  to  Mr  Bancroft's 
"self-imposed  life  work  of  condensing  his  material 
into  a  series  of  standard  works  on  Spanish  North 
America,  with  its  English  and  Russian  additions  in 
the  north-west,  a  territory  which  ho  terms  the  Pacific 
States." 

The  name  I  should  give  to  the  territory  marked 
out  had  often  troubled  me.  There  were  the  original 
Spanish- American,  English,  and  Russian  possessions, 
for  which  it  was  absolutely  necessary  to  have  some 
one  simple  appellation,  such  as  would  be  most  appli- 
cable and  most  easily  understood  by  the  world  at  large. 
There  were  objections  to  the  term  Pacific  States.  It 
had  been  applied  by  mc  as  publisher,  and  by  some 
few  others,  to  the  UiUted  States  territory  on  the 
Pacific,  and  if  it  had  any  signification  it  meant  only 
those  states  and  territories.  I  could  not  say  the 
Pacific  coast,  for  the  territory  embraced  much  more 
than  the  coast.  It  included  half  the  North  American 
continent,  and  the  whole  of  ]VIexico  and  Central  Amer- 
ica. Why  I  selected  this  territory  as  the  field  for 
my  historical  investigations  I  have  already  exi)lained. 
I  i)roposed  to  do  a  lai'ge  work,  and  I  would  cover  a 
l;irL,^e  territory:  it  was  all  new;  its  history  was  un- 
written; it  had  a  past  and  would  have  a  future;  and 
there  was  no  one  part  of  it  claiming  attention  more 
than  another,  unless  it  was  the  central  part,  which 
must  over  exercise  a  dominant  influence  over  the  rest. 
I  did  not  like  the  term  Pacific  nations,  or  Pacific  ter- 


316 


THE  PERILS  OF  PUBLISHING. 


ritories.  The  several  nationalities  on  these  shores 
had  often  changed,  were  still  changing,  and  might  ))c 
all  one  confederacy,  republic,  empire,  or  kingdom  some; 
day  for  aught  I  knew.  At  all  events,  they  were  states 
now;  there  were  the  Central  American  states,  the 
states  of  the  Mexican  and  American  republics,  and 
the  colonial  possessions  of  Great  Britain  and  lately 
of  Russia,  which  were,  and  always  would  be  in  some 
form,  states,  using  the  term  in  a  broad  sense.  Open 
to  the  charge  of  lack  of  unity  was  my  whole  scheme, 
in  all  its  several  bearings,  physical,  etlmographicnl. 
and  historical;  and  yet,  the  territory  being  all  noM' 
occupied  by  European  nations,  it  was  no  more  diverse 
in  its  origin,  character,  and  interests  than  Europe, 
and  men  had  written  histories  of  Europe  ere  now. 
The  Pacific  States  of  North  America,  therefore,  as 
the  best  and  most  tittinpf  term  for  the  desiijnation  of 
this  territory,  its  past,  present,  and  future,  I  finally 
settled  upon,  and  I  know  of  no  more  simple  and  com- 
prehensive expression  to  apply  to  it  now. 

At  last  I  was  ready  for  the  newspaper  reporters, 
if  not  for  the  reviewers.  They  might  publish  what 
they  pleased  about  the  library,  its  contents,  and  how 
collected,  but  my  work  was  not  yet  on  exhibition.  In 
they  came,  and  made  sweeping  work  of  it,  representa- 
tives of  English,  French,  Spanish,  German,  and  Italian 
journals,  of  the  interior  towns  as  well  as  of  the  cities. 
The  Bulletin,  Alta,  Post,  and  Chronicle  of  San  Fran- 
cisco came  out  in  long  articles,  vying  with  each  other 
in  the  extent  of  their  description  and  the  loudness  of 
their  praise.  From  Sacramento  the  proprietor  of  the 
Record-Union  sent  one  of  its  editors  who  by  appoint- 
ment with  Mr  Oak  spent  a  whole  day  in  a  critical 
examination  of  the  contents  of  the  fifth  floor,  which 
resulted  in  a  highly  flattering  article  covering  an 
entire  page  of  that  journal.  From  Oregon  and  from 
Mexico,  from  British  Columbia  and  from  Central 
America,  tho  journals  now  came  to  be  laden  with 
elaborate  description  of  my  collection. 


PROPOSED  VISIT  EAST. 


817 


There  wAs  nothing  so  terrible  in  all  this.  It  was 
about  as  might  have  been  expected.  But  there  was 
}ilcnty  which  was  worse  before  me,  now  and  for 
twenty  years.  I  must  presently  go  east,  call  upon 
fifty  or  a  hundred  of  the  leading  literary  men,  scien- 
tists, and  journalists,  and  explain  personally  to  them 
the  character  of  the  work  I  was  engaged  in. 

This  I  dreaded.  To  go  with  my  book,  like  a  can- 
vasser for  praise,  from  one  stranger  to  another,  tell 
them  of  myself,  what  I  was  doing,  and  ask  their 
opinion — proud  and  sensitive,  I  felt  it  to  be  a  most 
difficult,  most  unpleasant  task,  one  repugnant  to  my 
nature,  whieh  coveted  retirement  above  all  things  else. 
Writers  are  sensitive.  It  is  well  they  arc.  The 
tlioroughbred  is  thinner-skinned  than  the  ass.  A  man 
^vho  is  not  sensitive  about  his  reputation  never  will 
make  one.  A  writer  of  the  first  class  represents  not 
onlv  his  own  fjcnius,  but  the  ijenius  and  highest  culture 
of  his  time;  little  wonder  is  it,  therefore,  that  the  re- 
sults of  long  labor,  involving  the  best  efforts  of  a  new 
aspirant,  are  given  to  the  bulls  and  bears  of  literature 
tremblingly. 

Yet  it  must  be  done.  I  felt  that  I  owed  it  to  my- 
self and  to  my  work.  Life  and  fortune  were  now 
fully  embarked  in  this  enterprise,  and  my  enthusiasm 
for  the  work  w^as  mountin*]:  lii2;hcr  as  the  months 
and  years  went  by.  Now  was  the  turning-point  with 
rac.  My  first  work  was  read}'  for  publication,  and 
on  its  reception  would  depend  in  a  measure  my  whole 
I'uture. 

Not  that  a  failure  of  the  Native  Races  to  sell 
would  have  discouraged  me.  This  was  the  least  that 
troubled  me.  It  was  altogether  a  secondary  matter 
wliotlier  copies  of  the  book  were  sold  or  not.  I  merely 
wis! led  to  assure  myself  whether  mine  was  a  good 
worlc  well  performed,  or  a  useless  one  poorly  done.  I 
Would  have  the  book  issued  by  first-class  publishers  in 
Xiw  York  and  Europe,  for  it  must  bear  upon  it  the 
btanip  of  a  first-class  publication,  but  the  people  might 


31S 


THE  PERILS  OF  PUBLISHINGk 


buy  it  or  not,  as  they  pleased.     That  was  not  what 
concerned  mo. 

Crabbe  was  not  more  timorous  in  asking  the  gen- 
erous Burke  to  look  at  his  verses  than  I  in  begging 
critics  to  glance  at  my  productions.  Not  every  one 
can  understand  the  feeling.  Not  every  one  would 
hesitate  to  show  a  book  of  which  one  might  be  proud 
to  men  interested  in  such  books.  But  there  was  the 
trouble  with  mo.  I  did  not  feel  sure  that  my  work 
was  sufficiently  meritorious  to  awaken  their  interest, 
that  I  had  done  anything  to  be  proud  of,  and  I  did 
not  know  whether  or  not  they  would  be  interested. 
It  came  up  to  me  as  a  species  of  beggary  in  which  to 
indulge  was  worse  than  starvation.  I  must  appear 
before  these  literary  lords  as  a  western  adventurer, 
or  at  best  a  presumptuous  litterateur — coveting  their 
praise — a  role  I  despised  above  all  others.  I  must 
appear  as  one  asking  favor  for  a  product  of  his  brain 
so  inferior  in  quality  that  if  left  to  itself  it  could  not 
stand.  But  there  was  behind  me  work  piled  moun- 
tain high,  and  for  the  sake  of  the  future  I  would 
undertake  the  mission. 

If  the  object  be  to  bring  the  book  to  the  notice  of 
these  eastern  literati,  cannot  that  be  done  as  well  by 
letter,  accompanied  by  a  copy  of  the  work?  I  asked 
myself  No.  The  book  was  not  yet  published,  although 
I  had  printed  one  hundred  copies  with  Author's  Copy 
on  the  title-page  for  private  distribution  before  the 
plates  were  sent  east;  and  I  could  and  did  use  the 
copies  for  such  distribution.  But  this  was  not  the 
vital  point.  Mine  was  a  peculiar  work,  originated  and 
executed  in  a  peculiar  way.  I  required  the  opinion 
of  these  men  concerning  it.  No  amount  of  writing 
would  lay  the  matter  before  them  as  I  could  do  my- 
self I  must  have  direct  and  immediate  assurance 
as  to  the  quality  of  my  work  from  the  only  class  of 
men  the  critics  feared,  and  then  I  should  not  fear  the 
critics. 

It  was  no  part  of  my  purpose  at  any  time  to  pub- 


THE  FIRST  REVIEW. 


Sit 


lish  my  first  work  in  San  Francisco,  or  to  permit  the 
imprint  of  our  firm  upon  the  title-page  either  as  pub- 
lisher or  agent.  The  firm  should  have  the  exclusive 
sale  of  the  book  upon  the  Pacific  coast,  but  it  seemed 
to  me  in  bad  taste  for  the  author's  name  and  publish- 
ing house  to  appear  upon  the  same  title-page. 

Another  time  I  should  not  be  particular  about  it; 
that  is  to  say,  if  this  proved  a  success.  But  now  I 
must  obtain  for  it  all  the  weight  of  a  first-class  eastern 
publisher,  and  not  impart  to  it  the  appearance  of 
having  been  originated  by  a  bookseller  as  a  com- 
mercial speculation.  In  his  Q/ropcedia,  Xenophon 
places  the  department  of  public  instruction  in  the 
grand  square  near  the  king's  palace  and  government 
offices,  whence  merchandise  and  trade  "with  their 
noise  and  vulgarity  "  were  banished.  So  with  my  bant- 
ling; I  could  not  afford,  even  in  appearance,  and  in 
this  instance  at  least,  to  expose  the  product  of  my 
brain  to  doubts  and  risks. 


>tice  of 
(Tell  by 
asked 

lOUSfll 

;  Copy 

e  the 

;c  the 

ot  the 

ed  and 


lo  my- 
urancc 
[ass  of 
fear  the 


Returned  from  my  eastern  pilgrimage,  an  account 
of  which  is  given  in  the  next  chapter,  and  armed 
with  letters  from  the  high-priests  of  New  England 
learning,  I  was  ready  to  have  my  book  reviewed  in 
the  Overland.  This  of  all  others  was  the  proper  jour- 
nal to  publish  the  first  notice  of  my  first  work.  It  was, 
for  a  western  magazine,  ably  edited  and  enthusiasti- 
cally published,  at  a  monthly  loss  of  certain  hundreds 
of  dollars.  The  article  should  bo  by  a  first-class 
writer,  and  printed  before  reviews  began  to  arrive 
from  the  east.  Mr  Fisher  and  Mr  Ilarcourt,  as  we 
shall  see,  had  assumed  the  joint  editorship  of  the 
magazine  after  the  departure  of  Mr  Avery  for  China, 
and  they  were  solicitous  for  the  appearance  of  such 
an  article  in  the  holiday  number,  namely  that  of  De- 
cember 1874. 

But  the  question  was.  Who  should  be  the  writer 
of  the  article?  Obviously  no  one  in  the  library,  nor 
any  one  who  had  participated  in  the  work.     It  must 


S20 


THE  PERILS  OP  PUBLISHINa 


be  by  some  one  thoroughly  competent  to  judge  of 
Huch  work,  and  whose  name  would  carry  weight  with 
it  here  and  in  distant  i)arts.  The  editors  suggested  Mr 
Giknan.  I  was  well  enough  satisfied,  I  had  often  met 
him  since  his  assuming  the  presidency  of  the  uni- 
versity of  California;  he  had  been  a  guest  at  my 
house,  had  frequently  visiti'd  the  library,  spcndinc,' 
considerable  time  there,  and  had  always  expressed 
much  interest  in  my  work.  It  was  a  favorite  piojtct 
of  his  in  some  way  to  transfer  my  library  to  the  lauds 
of  the  university,  evidently  with  the  idea  that  once 
there  it  would  never  bo  removed. 

One  day  he  came  to  me  and  stated  that  a  buildiiiL,^ 
fund  was  about  to  be  appropriated  to  the  purpose  of 
the  univciolty,  that  the  plans  of  new  buildings  wore! 
drawn,  and  that  if  I  would  agree  to  move  my  library 
to  Berkeley,  without  any  other  obligation  expressed 
or  implied,  with  full  liberty  at  any  time  to  remove  it, 
he  would  have  a  building  erected  specially  for  the 
collection,  and  thereby  lessen  the  danger  to  which  it 
was  then  exposed  of  being  destroyed  by  fire,  for  that 
would  be  a  national  calamity. 

I  declined.  For,  however  free  I  might  be  to  re- 
move my  collection,  there  would  ever  be  resting  over 
me  an  implied  obligation  which  I  was  by  no  means 
willing  to  incur.  I  had  no  thought  of  donating  my 
collection  to  any  institution.  Surely  I  was  spendiiii,' 
time  and  money  enough  for  the  good  of  my  country 
to  be  permitted  to  keep  my  books. 

I  felt  the  risk  of  fire;  felt  it  every  day.  But  until 
I  could  erect  a  suitable  structure  myself,  I,  and  the 
commonwealth,  and  posterity  must  take  the  chances 
of  the  devouring  flames.  I  explained  to  the  president, 
moreover,  that  the  library  was  not  merely  a  reference 
library,  but  a  working  library;  that  I  had  imposed 
upon  myself  certain  tasks  which  would  occupy  the 
better  part  of  my  life,  if  not,  indeed,  the  whole  of  it, 
and  it  was  more  convenient  both  for  me  and  for  my 
assistants  where  it  was.     Still,  this  objection  was  not 


A  TIMID  REVIEWER. 


821 


I  >ount.  I  would  <1()  much  to  avoid  fire  risk;  but 
I  iiuist  dediiu!  luim[>oriniLj  my  work  in  any  way  or 
j)l,u'iii<^  myself  under  obligations  to  the  state  or  to 
luiv  corporation  or  person.  Writing  history  of  all 
filings  demands  freedom;  I  was  free,  absolutely  free. 
I  souizht  neitlier  emolument  nor  office  from  anv  nuar- 
tei'.  While  desiring  the  friendship  and  sympathy  of 
all.  I  feared  none,  and  for  favor  would  never  depart 
lioui  what  I  deemed  the  right.  I  was  free,  and  must 
remain  so.  The  university  president  expressed  him- 
self satisfied. 

Mr  Gilman  then  lived  in  Oakland,  and  one  day  in 
Xovember  the  young  editors  proposed  to  me  that  we 
should  visit  him.  To  this  I  readily  assented,  and 
that  night  we  crossed  the  bay  and  called  at  his  house. 
Ho  received  us  cordially,  entered  into  the  plan  with 
interest,  and  even  enthusiasm,  and  at  once  promised 
to  undertake  the  article.  To  facilitate  matters,  as  the 
president's  time  was  valuable,  and  in  order  i  hat  he 
ini!:,'ht  derive  the  most  assistance  from  the  experience 
of  others,  he  requested  that  Nemos,  Harcourt, 
Oak,  and  Goldschmidt  should  each  severally  write 
whatever  occurred  to  him  resj)ecting  the  library, 
the  book  to  be  reviewed,  and  the  author,  and  hand 
the  material  to  Gilman,  who  would  thus  be  obliged 
merely  to  use  these  statements  so  far  as  they  went, 
instead  of  making  lengthy  original  research.  But  it 
was  distinctly  understood  that  these  notes  should 
serve  only  as  memoranda,  and  that  the  author  of  the 
article  should  verify  every  statement,  make  thorough 
personal  investigation,  and  speak  with  dignity  and 
(locisiou  concerninjx  the  work,  commendinij  or  con- 
ucniniug,  as  his  judgment  might  dictate. 

^  et  withal  there  was  something  in  the  university 
pr<  sidi'iit's  manner  I  did  not  understand.  He  was  a 
very  ph-asant,  very  plausible  man,  and  quite  positive 
snnietiines.  He  was  a  good  man,  an  earnest,  honest, 
iind  practical  man,  and  he  made  a  good  college  presi- 
dent, though  in  some  respects  he  was  somewhat  too 

l.IT.    IND.      Jl 


322 


THK   I'KRIL.S   OF   PUBLISHINti. 


1:1  < 


diploTuatic.  lu  short,  while  ho  meant  overytluii.; 
for  the  best,  and  would  under  no  eonsidcration  do  an 
uno-c>iitlenianly,  not  to  say  dishonorable  act,  he  was 
i]ot  remarkable  tor  plain,  straigh forward,  and  thor- 
ough sincerity.  Such  was  his  nature;  he  could  not 
help  it. 

The  hard  lineaments  of  a  grave  face  may  aide 
much  that  is  sweet  and  sj^mpatlietic;  so  the  winning 
vivacity  of  a  pleasing  face  may  serve  as  the  cjver  of 
empty  diplomacy.  In  this  instance,  like  Franklin's 
Governor  Keith,  he  wished  to  please;  he  wished  to 
contribute  the  article;  and  yet,  as  the  sequel  tihowed, 
he  lacked  the  courage  to  do  it. 

The  time  was  limited.  The  article  must  be  ready 
soon  in  order  to  gain  its  insertion  in  the  December 
number.  The  president  assured  the  editors  that  they 
might  rely  upon  him.  The  memoranda  were  sent 
promptly  as  agreed.  He  spent  some  time  in  the 
library  looking  over  the  books,  index,  and  the  notes, 
and  questioning  my  assistants,  all  of  which  augured 
well.  Perhaps  I  was  mistaken  in  my  impressions. 
He  might  have  more  stamina  than  I  had  given  him 
credit  for. 

But  no,  alaal  for  when  the  article  was  handed  in  at 
the  Overland  office  it  proved  to  have  been  fearfully 
and  wonderfully  prepared.  Fisher  immediately  rushed 
up  with  it  to  my  room.  "Here's  a  pretty  go!"  he 
exclaimed,  almost  out  of  breath  from  running  up  five 
tlights  of  stairs.  Sure  enough;  the  flabby  flesh  of  it 
was  fair  enough,  but  it  lacked  bones,  or  any  substan- 
tial framework.  Instead  of  saying  *  I  have  looked  into 
this  matter,  I  have  examined  this  work  thoroughly, 
and  I  iind  this  good  and  that  bad,  or  perhaps  all  gooJ 
or  all  bad,'  either  or  any  of  which  would  have  satisilod 
me  so  far  as  his  good  intention  and  ability  were  eoi:- 
corned,  he  wrote,  *Mr  Nemos  says  this,  Mr  Gold- 
Schmidt  that,  Mr  Harcourt  the  other  thing,*  hovering 
about  the  subject  and  avoiding  the  question  hinit^cir. 

I  never  was  thoroughly  satisfled  whether  he  lacked 


rilESIDENT  OILMAN   ANU  J.  liOSS    HKOWNK. 


323 


the  disposition  to  write  the  article,  or  tlu;  Ktainina  of 
mind  to  have  an  opinion  and  avow  it.  Ho  was  a  V(!ry 
timid  man,  particularly  as  to  the  estimation  in  which 
college  and  literary  men  at  the  east  would  hold  him. 
It  must  be  remembered  that  no  i-eview  of  the  Native 
Juices  had  as  yet  appeared,  and  if  ]V[r  (^^ilnian  were  to 
commit  himself  to  an  opinion  which  should  prove  not 
tlio  opinion  of  his  friends  at  the  oast,  he  never  would 
forgive  himself.  Scholastieus  swore  he  would  never 
oiitor  water  until  he  could  swim;  Gilman  would  not 
venture  a  criticism  until  he  was  sure  it  would  float. 
I  then  felt  and  feel  now  very  grateful  to  Mv  Gilman 
for  his  distinguished  courtesy  and  kindness  to  me  on 
nuuiy  occasions  both  before  and  after  this.  But  here 
was  required  something  else  than  courtesy  or  kindness. 
The  life-issue  of  my  litcary  labors  was  at  stake.  I 
must  know  where  I  stood,  and  I  asked  the  president 
of  the  university  of  California,  as  one  high  in  learn- 
ing and  authority,  to  tell  me,  to  tell  the  world.  He 
was  friendly  to  me,  friendly  to  the  work,  had  been 
useful,  wanted  to  be  useful  now,  but  he  lacked  what 
I  most  wanted  then,  and  what  I  was  determined  to 
have — positiveness. 

Tearing  the  manuscript  in  pieces  and  throwing  it 
into  the  waste-basket,  I  turned  to  my  work.  "What 
shall  we  do  now?"  asked  Fisher. 

"Ross  Browne  is  the  best  man  on  the  coast,  if  we 
could  get  him,"  he  said.  "He  is  much  better  known 
at  the  cast  than  Gilman." 

"I  can  get  him,"  said  Harcourt.  Within  an  hour 
lie  was  across  the  bay  and  driving  to  the  pagoda- 
looking  villa  situated  in  the  foothills  beyond  Oakland. 
IK'  was  accustomed  to  tell  the  story  by  this  time,  and 
soon  ]\Ir  Browne  knew  all  about  it.  He  promised  his 
inmiodiate  and  hearty  attention.  The  consequence 
was  one  of  the  best  articles  ever  written  upon  the  sub- 
j^'tt,  in  the  Ofer/a/ic?  of  December.  The  library,  the 
iiidoK,  and  the  first  volume  of  the  Native  Races  were 
all  critically  examined,  explained,  and  opinions  pro- 


824 


THE  PERILS  OF  PUBLISHING. 


i  i 
Ml 


Ml 

lii!' 


Yl 


nounced.     The  article  was  copied  in  the  News  Letter, 
and  in  part  by  the  newspaper  press  generally. 

Gilman  often  said  afterward  that  he  would  yet 
review  that  book  somewhere,  but  he  never  did.  In 
fact  I  told  him  not  to  trouble  himself.  In  relation 
with  my  work  his  policy  seemed  somewhat  Machiavcl- 
ian;  and  I  might  say  as  Doctor  Johnson  remarked 
to  Lord  Chesterfield:  "The  notice  which  you  have 
been  pleased  to  take  of  my  labors,  had  it  been  early, 
had  been  kind;  but  it  has  been  delayed  till  I  am  in- 
different and  cannot  enjoy  it;  till  I  am  solitary  and 
cannot  impart  it;  till  I  am  known  and  do  not  want 
it."  Those  who  arc  first  to  recognize  the  merit  of  liis 
work,  the  author  never  forgets.  It  is  at  the  outset 
that  he  most  needs  recognition;  when  it  has  become 
the  fashion  to  praise  he  does  not  need  or  value  it  so 
highly. 

Then  I  went  alike  to  my  friends  and  my  enemies 
of  the  San  Francisco  daily  press.  I  placed  in  their 
hands  my  book;  told  them  I  was  now  ready  to  have 
it  reviewed;  that  no  reviews  had  as  yet  appeared 
from  any  quarter,  but  that  they  would  shortly  appear 
in  the  quarterlies,  the  monthlies,  and  the  dailies  of 
Europe  and  America.  Of  their  probable  nature  +licy 
might  judge  somewhat  from  letters  which  I  had  re- 
ceived and  which  I  spread  out  before  them. 

As  it  was  an  important  work,  I  begged  them  to 
examine  it  thoroughly  and  review  w'holly  upon  merit. 
This,  eastern  and  European  scholars  would  expect,  ;h 
the  work  emanated  from  California,  and  thcv  would 
certamly  note  what  Californian  journals  said  of  it. 
All  were  gracious.  None  cared  to  run  counter  to  the 
profuse  expressions  of  praise  already  in  my  possession. 
The  work  demanded  investigation,  they  said,  and 
should  have  it.  It  was  an  enterprise  of  wliieli  they 
felt  proud,  and  they  heartily  wished  it  every  success. 
The  differences  existing  between  them  and  the  tirui 
should  have  nothing  to  do  with  this  undertaking,  wli  if  h 
must  be  regarded  from  a  totally  different  standpoint. 


DOES  IT  PAY? 


323 


I  need  not  say  that  the  daily  papers  of  San  Francisco 
spoke  well  of  the  Native  Races. 

Publishing  having  been  my  business,  and  the  Native 
Races  being  my  first  book,  persons  have  asked  me  if 
it  paid  pecuniarily;  and  when  I  answered  No,  they 
SLLined  at  a  loss  what  to  make  of  it.  Samuel  John- 
son says,  "no  man  but  a  blockhead  ever  wrote  except 
for  money."  I  will  admit  myself  a  blockhead  to  the 
extent  that  I  did  not  write  for  money,  but  not  so  great 
a  one  as  not  to  know,  after  a  publishing  experience  of 
a  quarter  of  a  century,  that  work  like  mine  never  re- 
turns a  money  profit.  And  with  duo  deference  to  the 
learned  doctor  I  hold  rather  with  John  Stuart  Mill, 
who  says  that  "the  writings  by  which  one  can  live 
are  not  the  writings  which  themselves  live,  and  are 
never  those  in  which  the  writer  does  his  best.  Books 
destined  to  form  future  thinkers  take  too  much  time 
tti  write,  and  when  written,  come,  in  general,  too 
slowly  into  notice  and  repute  to  be  relied  on  for  sub- 
sistence." Or,  as  Mrs  Browning  more  tersely  puts  it, 
'In  England  no  one  lives  by  books  that  live."  The 
Xatirc  Races  did  not  pay  pecuniarily,  though  the  re- 
turns were  greater  than  I  had  anticipated.  The  book 
was  wholly  written  and  put  in  type  on  the  Market- 
street  premises. 


II 


i!l 


CHAPTEK  XIV. 


A    LITERARY    PILGRIM. 


!  M; 

!  i  ;I 
i   f 

■     i  "• 
'     '1' 

••il 


ill 


;  , 


Freuden  von  ausnehraendem  Geschmaok  wie  Anr.nas  haben  daa  Schlinuite, 
dass  sie  wie  Ananas  das  ZalmQcisch  bluten  macheu. 

Jean  Pwl  likhle,: 

I  SET  out  on  my  pilgrimage  the  3d  of  August,  1874, 
taking  with  me  my  daughter  Kate,  to  place  in  school 
at  Farmington,  Connecticut.  After  a  few  days'  stay 
at  Buftalo  with  my  two  sisters,  Mrs  Palmer  and  Mrs 
Trcvott,  I  proceeded  to  New  York. 

The  one  hundred  author's  copies  of  volume  i.  had 
been  printed  at  our  establishment  in  San  Francisco, 
and  the  plates  sent  east  before  my  departure.  Twenty- 
five  copies  of  the  work  accompanied  the  plates;  be- 
sides these  I  carried  in  my  trunk  printed  sheets  of 
the  Native  Races  so  far  as  then  in  type,  namely  the 
M'holo  of  volume  i.,  one  hundred  and  fifty  pages  ut' 
voluinn  II.,  four  liundred  pages  of  volume  iii.,  and  one 
hundivd  i)a<ifcs  of  volume  iv. 

Boiside  seeking  the  countenance  and  sympathy  of 
scliolars  in  my  enterprise,  it  was  part  of  my  erraml 
to  find  a  publisher.  As  the  })lates  had  not  ariivid 
when  I  reached  New  York  I  concluded  to  leave  tin- 
matter  of  publishhig  for  the  present,  direct  my  coiir-i 
toward  Boston,  and  dive  at  once  in  lurainis  oras. 

It  was  Saturday,  the  15th  of  August,  and  I  liad 
promised  to  spend  Sunday  with  some  friends  al 
Bri<lgei)()rt. 

At  t\\v  New  Haven  railway  station  I  encountend 
President  (jlilman,  to  whom  I  made  known  the  natun 
of  my  mission,  and  asked  if  he  deemed  it  tlio  proper 

(3i«) 


AMONG  FRIENDS. 


827 


tiling  for  me  to  do.  He  thought  that  it  was,  and 
iiained  several  persons  whom  I  should  see.  Further 
than  this,  ho  spoke  of  a  mooting  of  the  scientiHc  as- 
sociation to  bo  hold  in  PTartford  the  following  Tuesday, 
and  advised  me  to  attend,  saying  that  he  would  be 
thoro  and  M'ould  take  pleasure  in  introducing  me  to 
tlioso  whoso  acquaintance  might  be  advantageous.  I 
thanked  him  and  we  parted. 

I  was  very  restless  in  the  company  of  my  friends; 
I  could  not  remain  in  Buffalo,  I  could  not  remain 
([nictly  a  day  or  two  in  Bridgeport.  It  seemed  that 
the!  kinder  they  were  the  less  I  could  endure  inaction. 
On  ]\ronday  T  went  to  New  Haven.  There  I  saw 
^Ir  James  Walker,  who  had  married  my  cousin 
^tfaitha  Johnstone.  Walker  was  a  pleasant,  genial 
t'tllow,  had  lived  long  in  New  Haven,  and  was  wc^ll 
acquainted  with  man}'  of  the  college  professors.  He 
to(jk  a  lively  interest  in  my  worlc,  and  was  ever  ready 
to  serve  mo. 

We  started  innnodiately  to  call  on  some  of  those 
more  proniinont  in  literature.  I  then  found  that  the 
very  worst  time  in  the  year  liad  been  .selected  to  make 
these  visits,  for  it  was  the  summer  vacation,  and  most 
of  the  college  professors  and  literary  workers  were 
away. 

Tliereforo  I  concluded  to  leave  New  Haven  for  the 
iJivsent  and  call  acjain  on  mv  return.  Besidinijf  there 
V  ;k  niY  aunt  ^Mrs  Jcthnstone  and  mv  faA'orite  cousin, 
A'llla,  a  cheerful,  enduring  litth'  pieee'  of  independence 
and  self-sacrifice,  whose  briglit  i'ace  ever  greeted  me 
with  ladiant  smiles,  so  that  to  call  again  at  New 
Haven  was  not  an  unpleasant  task.  The  Joluistones 
v,»  IV  returned  missionaries  from  Snivrna,  where  the 
1)1  si  years  of  their  lives  had  been  spent  in  the  service 
o''  the  Lord,  as  managed  by  the  protestant  board  rX 
iureinti  missions;  and  havinu' now  become  aged  and 
v.orthless  in  this  service  tluy  were  turned  loose  upon 
the  common  to  shift  for  themselves.  Unaided  hy 
any  one  this  mother  in   Israel  educated  her  sons  and 


m  '5| 


i  k'  ■" 


828 


A  UTERARY  PILGRIM. 


daughters,  and  kept  the  wolf  from  the  door,  but  how 
she  did  it  God  knoweth. 

In  Hartford,  Tuesday,  President  Gilman  intro- 
duced me  to  Professor  Brewer  of  Yale,  Doctor  Asa 
Gray  of  Harvard,  and  others.  He  also  spoke  of  urn 
to  several,  among  them  Mr  Warner  of  the  Courani, 
who,  when  I  called  upon  liini  subsequently,  treated 
me  with  a  scarcely  anticipated  kindness.  I  was  then 
in  a  humor  to  be  Mon  for  life  by  any  man  who  wcnild 
take  the  trouble.  It  may  seem  weak,  this  supci- 
•sensitivoness,  but  I  wa.s  in  a  feverish  state  of  miiul, 
and  my  nerves  were  all  unstrung  by  long  labor.  J 
was  callous  enough  to  ignorance  and  indifference,  lor 
amongst  these  I  had  all  along  been  working,  but  in- 
telligent sympathy  touched  me,  and  Mr  Warners 
manner  was  so  courteous,  and  his  words  so  encour- 
aging, that  they  sank  at  once  into  my  heart,  whero 
they  have  remained  ever  since.  He  entered  warmly 
into  my  plans,  gave  me  strong,  decided  letters  t(j 
several  persons,  Vvhich  proved  of  the  greatest  advan- 
tage, and  on  leaving  his  office  I  carried  with  me  the 
benediction  which  I  know  came  from  an  honest  pen. 
"God  bless  such  workers!" 

While  attending  the  meetings  of  the  association 
my  attention  was  called  to  one  Porter  C.  Bliss,  whoso 
name  was  on  the  programme  for  several  papeis  on 
Mexico.  Mr  Gilman  said  I  should  know  him,  and 
introduced  me.  He  was  a  singular  character  both 
without  and  within.  Yankee  in  inquisitive  push  and 
everlasting  memory,  he  had  been  lately  secretary 
of  the  American  legation  in  Mexico,  and  somotinu; 
famous  in  Paraguay.  I  now  remembered  that  his 
name  had  been  frequently  mentioned  to  me  as  ono 
interested  in  Mexican  antiquities  and  literature. 

Universal  looseness  was  the  air  of  him,  stitfonod 
somewhat  by  self-conceit.  Though  plain,  or  even 
homely,  in  appearance,  there  was  nothing  servile  in 
his  carriage,  and  the  awkwardness  of  his  address 
was  partially  concealed  by  his  assurance.     Of  a  liglit 


t  how 


pen. 


Itbiio'l 

oven 

Wc  iti 

light 


PORTEJl  C.  BLISS. 

pomplexion,  a  little  above  medium  height,  with  chin 
w  ell  up  and  head  thrown  back,  his  large,  gray,  glassy 
eyes  looked  straight  before  him,  and  his  walk  was  as 
one  just  started  on  a  journey  round  the  world.  His 
lioht  clothes  were  neither  neat  nor  well-fitting.  His 
s!ii;ill  pantaloons,  which  crooked  with  his  crooked  legs, 
stopped  on  reaching  the  tops  of  his  low  shoes,  while 
u  short-skirted  coat  displayed  his  gaunt  limbs  to  their 
most  unfavorable  advantage.  A  tan-colored,  broad- 
hrimnied  slouched  hat,  set  well  back  upon  the  head, 
roiuplcted  his  attire,  the  tout-ensemhlc,  including  the 
timuc,  having  the  appearance  of  the  Wandering  Jew 
oveitaken  by  Mexican  highwaymen  and  forced  to  a 
])aitial  exchange  of  apparel  with  them. 

His  mind  was  no  less  disjointed  than  his  manner. 
Genealogy  filled  every  available  nook  of  his  brain, 
and  constituted  about  nine  tenths  of  his  earthly  in- 
terests; the  Bliss  family's  first,  then  that  of  any  other 
oil  earth  above  the  rank  of  ape,  it  made  no  difference 
wliose  or  what,  so  long  as  listeners  could  bo  found  to 
his  interminable  stringings  of  sires  and  sons.  His  was 
a  (Hsinterested  devotion  to  other  men's  madness  such 
as  is  seldom  seen.  The  American  aborigines  had  given 
him  some  little  trouble,  more  particularly  in  the  tumuli 
tliey  left  scattered  about  Mexico,  and  in  their  lan- 
guages, these  being  the  subjects  of  his  lectures  in 
Hartford.  The  Native  Races  appeared  to  confuse  him 
somewhat  in  this  quarter,  for  after  seeing  my  proof- 
slieets  he  had  nothing  to  remark  upon  the  subject, 
thinking  probably  that  if  he  did  know  more  about 
thosu  peoples  than  any  one  else,  I  had  anticipated 
all  tliat  he  would  say  of  them.  Self  was  not  least 
ill  his  esteem;  although  his  personality  he  seemed  to 
regard  in  the  abstract  rather  than  as  concreted  body 
:m(l  soul.  He  was  one  thing  and  Bliss  another.  Of 
himself  he  thought  little,  talked  little,  cared  little  how 
he  was  fed,  lodged,  or  clothed;  but  for  Bliss  ho  had 
much  concern,  regarding  him  as  of  good  family,  who 
had  not  been  well  treated  in  Paraguay,  and  who  had 


S80 


A  LITERARY  PILGRIM. 


done  much  work  for  little  pay  in  Mexico.  He  gavo 
one  the  impression  of  an  extract  from  a  vcllum-bouiid 
Nahua  vocabulary,  a  half- civilized  cross  between  an 
aboriginal  American  and  an  Englishman. 

Yet  all  these  peculiarities  were  but  the  alloy  whicli 
was  to  enable  the  good  gold  of  his  nature  to  endure 
the  wear  of  the  world.    After  all,  there  was  more  ot" 
the  serpent's  wisdom  than  cunning  in  him;  and  al- 
though he  entertained  a  wholesome  respect  for  money 
he  was  not  mercenary;  neither  was  his  mind  accus- 
tomed to  measure  men  by  their  wealth.     To  different 
classes  and  conditions  of  men  he  seemed  to  apply 
different  standards  of  merit.     He  delivered  his  lec- 
tures  in   a   clear  loud   voice,  without   hesitancy  or 
embarrassment,  and  with  his  eyes  fixed  upon  the  oj)- 
posite  wall.    The  words  came  from  his  mouth  like  tlio 
studied  composition  of  a  school-boy.     His  features 
wore  an  expression  of  happy  immobility.     He  loved 
to  talk;    he  loved  to  hear  the  sound  of  his  voice; 
and  whether  the  benches  were  empty  or  full,  wheclKr 
people  came  or  went,  admired  or  condemned,  mr.de  no 
difference  to  him.     His  piece  he  would  speak,  and 
when  spoken  that  was  the  end  of  it.     His  appotiti; 
for  readinG:  was  omnivorous  and  gluttonous.     He  de- 
voured  every  newspaper  that  came  under  his  eye.    Jn 
the  reading-rooms  of  the  hotels  lie  was  like  a  boa- 
constrictor  among  rabbitd,  except  that  no  mattei-  how 
many  were  swallowed  he  never  lay  dormant.     He 
was  a  walking  waste-basket.     Off-hand  he  could  toll 
you  anything;  but  go  with  him  below  the  surface  of 
things  and  he  knew  little. 

I  invited  Bliss  to  dine  with  me.  He  took  to  dinner 
kindly,  fed  fast  and  liberally,  and,  the  meal  finished, 
seemed  satisfied.  This  augured  well:  the  inner  Bliss 
knew  what  it  wanted;  sought  it  straightway;  knew 
when  it  had  enough.  A  new  philosophy  might  lie 
based  on  Bliss'  feeding.  I  liked  his  movements  under 
the  clatter  of  crockery.  Mr  Bliss  informed  me  that 
he  had  collected  while  in  Mexico  some  three  thousand 


AT  CAMBRIDGE. 


381 


(linn  or 
lislied, 
Bli>.s 
knew 
ht  l-e 
under 
le  that 
ousanJ 


volumes,  which  he  was  offering  in  whole  or  in  part  to 
libraries.  The  books  were  then  in  New  York,  and  I 
might  accompany  him  thither  to  select  at  pleasure. 
The  opportunity  was  too  tempting  to  let  slip;  and, 
while  it  was  inconvenient  for  me  to  return  to  New 
York  at  that  moment,  I  did  not  like  to  lose  sight  of 
my  new  and  apparently  erratic-minded  friend. 

"  Where  do  you  reside?"  I  asked. 

"  Nowhere,"  was  the  reply. 

"At  what  are  you  engaged?" 

"  Nothing." 

"  If  you  will  accompany  me  to  Boston  on  this  mis- 
sion of  mine,  I  will  pay  your  expenses,  and  leave  you 
in  New  York  with  many  thanks." 

"  I  will  attend  you  with  pleasure." 

I  do  not  know  that  this  was  a  very  wise  move. 
^Myself,  sohts,  cut  a  sorrowful  figure  enough,  but  my 
companion  doubled  the  dolor  without  adding  much 
diplomatic  ability.  True,  he  could  assist  me  sonie- 
wliat  in  advising  whom  to  see  and  how  to  find  them. 
But  this  was  not  my  main  object  in  the  arrange- 
ment. He  might  have  his  books  sold  and  be  w  Nova 
Scotia,  where  indeed  ho  talked  of  going  on  some- 
Ii'.kIv's  2:encalo»Tfic  business,  befc^re  I  had  finished  mv 
X(;w  England  errand;  and  I  took  him  with  me  so 
that  I  mio'lit  continue  mv  pilgrimage  without  losing 
him. 

Friday,  the  21st  of  August,  saw^  us  at  the  Belle vue 
lionse,  the  establishment  of  Dio  Lewis,  a  cross  be- 
tween a  water-cure  institution  and  a  hotel.  Bliss  had 
been  there  before,  and  recommended  the  rooms  as 
Ix'tti'r  than  those  of  the  hotels.  I  had  a  letter  from 
^iv  Warner  to  Mr  Howells  of  the  Atlantic  MontJibj, 
and  next  day  I  went  over  to  Cambridge,  where  ho 
liv(!d,  to  see  him.  He  was  absent  from  home,  and  not 
expected  back  for  a  week.  Inquiries  as  to  the  where- 
abouts of  certain  persons  revealed  tlu^t  most  of  them 
were  away,  so  that  little  was  done  till  the  following 
Tuesday,  when  we  started  out  in  earnest.    Proceeding 


332 


A  LITERARY  PILGRIM. 


l' 


to  Cambridge,  the  centre  of  the  class  to  be  visited,  at 
the  suggestion  of  Mr  Bhss  we  called  on  J.  G.  Palfrey. 
Mr  Gilraan  had  also  mentioned  Mr  Palfrey  as  one 
whom  I  should  see.  We  were  shown  into  a  long  room, 
crowded  with  massive  furniture,  a  bookcase  at  one 
end,  and  books  and  pictures  scattered  about  the  rootn 
in  orthodox  New  England  fashion.  Grim  portraits 
adorned  the  walls;  a  thick,  soft,  flabby,  faded  carpet 
covered  the  floor;  and  the  place  and  its  belongings 
struck  the  visitor  with  a  dismal  dimmish  sensation 
most  unprolitable. 

This  is  a  long  way  from  my  fifth  floor,  thought 
I,  with  its  plain  pine  tables,  its  bare  floor,  its  dust 
and  disorder,  its  army  of  hard-headed  young  workers, 
and  its  direct  and  practical  way  of  doing  things;  a  cen- 
tury away,  at  least,  if  not  two.  For  fifty  years  this 
man  has  handled  literature,  sacred  and  profane,  while 
less  than  a  score  tell  all  the  ups  and  downs  of  my 
wanderings  in  the  field  of  letters.  Student,  professor, 
preacher,  postmaster,  reviewer,  historian,  all  within 
cannon-shot  of  these  impressive  premises,  surely  here 
if  anywhere  a  literary  pilgrim  from  the  new  unlettered 
west  should  find  broad  sympathy  and  catholicity  of 
sentiment.  Here  was  godliness  with  great  gain, 
learning  with  its  reward;  where  should  the  humble 
aspirant  find  encouragement,  where  should  the  un- 
tutored ambition  of  the  wilderness  shores  of  the 
Pacific  find  direction  if  not  beneath  the  classic  shades 
of  Harvard! 

Now  by  Burritt,  Le  Brun,  and  Wild,  blacksmith, 
painter,  and  tailor,  learned  without  alma  mater  labors, 
what  is  this  that  comes?  It  is  the  antiquated  genius 
of  this  antiquated  place.  One  glance  is  enough.  In 
that  weazen  face,  in  those  close-fisted  features,  in  that 
pinched  form  and  muck-worm  manner,  I  see  no  excel- 
lence for  me  to  study.  Such  rubrics  we  of  the  fifth 
floor  erase,  finding  in  them  no  worshipful  supersti- 
tion worthy  our  adulation. 

My  chief  concern  now  was  to  beat  a  respectable 


THE  GODS  OF  HARVARD. 


S33 


retreat,  which  I  was  procecdinj^  to  do  forthwith,  aftor 
a  few  commonpkice  remarks  intended  to  cover  any 
iil)parent  rudeness,  and  without  saying  a  word  of  my 
work,  when  Bhss  broke  in,  tokl  the  whole  story,  and 
asked  if  the  learned  historian  of  New  England  would 
lie  pleased  to  look  at  the  unlearned  efforts  of  one  who 
aspired  to  write  the  record  of  the  last  and  mightiest 
west. 

Then  shook  the  attenuated  form  with  its  anti- 
(|iuited  apparel,  and  loud  lamentations  broke  from  the 
](>anie(l  lips.  "O  talk  not  to  me  of  new  fields  and  new 
lilbrtsi"  he  cried.  "I  am  finished;  I  am  laid  upon  tho 
to|>most  library  shelf;  the  results  of  ni}'  life  fill  a 
space  against  a  few  house-walls  hereabout,  and  that 
is  all.  Forgotten  am  I  among  men.  Ask  me  to  look 
at  nothing,  to  say  nothing,  to  do  nothing."  This  was 
exactly  what  in  my  heart  I  was  praying  he  would  do — 
nothing.    So  we  gat  ourselves  upon  the  street. 

Plodding  feverishly  along  in  a  hot  sun,  with  my 
bundle  of  proof-sheets  under  my  arm,  we  next  en- 
countered on  the  street  one  of  those  deities  of  whom 
we  were  in  search.  In  appearance  he  bore  the  simili- 
tude of  a  man,  but  made  and  regulated  with  line  and 
plummet.  His  gait  was  angular,  his  dress  exact,  and 
his  glance  geometrical;  in  fact  he  was  in  the  mathe- 
matical line.  I  forget  his  name,  else  I  would  give  it, 
lor  he  struck  me  as  the  latest  improvement  in  auto- 
matic construction.  Nor  was  I  mistaken  or  disap- 
pointed when  from  his  equilateral  mouth  there  came 
the  words,  "No;  I  have  not  time  for  such  things, 
kni)\v  nothing  about  them,  have  no  interest  in  them." 

I  began  to  think  I  had  mistaken  my  calling;  that 
with  clerical  cant  and  conventionalisms  I  might  obtain 
a  111  aring  from  these  men,  though  for  my  life  I  can- 
in  n  now  see  what  it  would  have  advantaged  me  if 
they  had  listened  till  nightfall  and  praised  until  morn- 


However,  we  were  destined  in  due  time  to  come 
upon  men  with  hearts  as  well  as  heads;    and   first 


1  I  i 


I; 


i  <i^  I 


■■{ 


334 


A  LITERARY  PILGRIM. 


among  these  was  Doctor  Asa  Gray.  Wo  found  him 
in  the  botanic  ijardcn,  and  he  heard  us  with  attentive 
interest.  I  presented  him  with  a  copy  of  my  book, 
which  lie  said  with  my  permission  lie  would  place  ujion 
the  shelves  of  the  llarvtird  library.  I  objected.  TIk; 
book  was  for  him,  if  he  would  accept  it.  This  fashion 
of  giving  public  libraries  presented  books  I  do  not 
relish.  It  is  a  sort  of  cheat  practised  upon  the 
author,  who,  if  he  wishes  a  library  presented  with  a 
coj)y  of  his  book,  prefers  giving  it  direct  instead  of 
through  anotlicr;  if  ho  does  not,  a!iother  has  no  right 
to  so  dispose  of  a  book  which  was  given  him  to  keep. 

It  was  my  intention  to  ask  eastern  scholars  to  ex- 
amine my  book  and  give  me  an  expression  of  their 
opinion  in  writing;  but  in  talking  the  matter  over 
with  Dr  Gray  he  advised  me  to  delay  such  request 
until  the  reviewers  had  pronounced  their  verdict,  or 
at  all  events  until  such  expression  of  opinion  came 
naturally  and  voluntarily.  This  I  concluded  to  do; 
though  at  the  same  time  I  could  not  understand  what 
good  private  opinions  would  do  me  after  public  re- 
viewers had  spoken.  Their  praise  I  should  not  care 
to  supplement  with  feebler  praise;  their  disapproba- 
tion could  not  be  averted  after  it  had  been  printed. 

And  so  it  turned  out.  What  influence  my  seeing 
these  men  and  presenting  them  copies  of  my  book  had 
on  reviewers,  if  any,  I  have  no  means  of  knowing. 
Directly,  I  should  say  it  had  none;  indirectly,  as  for 
example,  a  word  dropped  upon  the  subject,  or  a  kiiowl- 
edije  of  the  fact  that  the  author  had  seen  and  had  ex- 
plained  the  character  of  his  work  to  the  chief  scholars 
of  the  country,  might  make  the  reviewer  regard  it 
a  little  more  attentively  than  he  otherwise  would. 
On  the  receipt  of  the  fifth  volume  of  the  Native  JiaccK 
Doctor  Gray  wrote  me:  **I  am  filled  more  and  more 
with  admiration  of  what  you  have  done  and  are  doing; 
and  all  I  hear  around  me,  and  read  from  the  critical 
judges,  adds  to  the  good  opinion  I  had  formed." 

Doctor  Gray  gave  me  letters  to  Francis  Parknian, 


ADAMS  AND  LOWKLL. 


335 


diaries  Francis  Adams,  and  others.  While  at  Cam- 
In  idgo  we  called  on  Mrs  Horace  Mann,  but  she  bcinj^ 
ill,  her  sister,  Miss  Pcabody,  saw  us  instead.  With 
fkxiucnco  of  tongue  and  case  and  freedom  she  dis- 
sected the  most  knotty  problem  ^  of  tlie  day. 

James  Russell  Lowell  lived  in  a  pleasant,  plain 
house,  common  to  the  intellectual  and  retined  of  that 
locality.  Longfellow's  residence  wiis  the  most  pre- 
t(  iitious  I  visited,  but  the  plain,  home-like  dwellings, 
\\  itliin  which  was  the  atmos})here  of  genius  or  cul- 
ture, were  most  attractive  to  me.  How  cold  and  soul- 
It  .ss  are  the  Stewart's  marble  palaces  of  New  York 
In  side  these  New  England  abodes  of  intellect  with 
their  chaste  though  unaffected  adornments  1 

Lowell  listened  without  savinij:  a  word;  listened  for 
three  or  five  minutes,  1  should  think,  without  a  nod  or 
movement  signifying  that  he  heard  me.  I  was  quite 
I'eady  to  take  offence  when  once  the  suspicion  came 
that  I  was  regarded  as  a  bore. 

"  Perhaps  1  tire  .you,"  at  length  I  suggested. 

"  Pray  go  on,"  said  he. 

When  I  had  finished  he  entered  warmly  into  the 
'  ie,rits  of  the  case,  made  several  suggestions  and  dis- 
cussed points  of  difference.  He  bound  me  to  him 
lu rover  by  his  many  acts  of  sympathy  then  and  after- 
ward, for  he  never  seemed  to  lose  interest  in  my  labors, 
and  wrote  me  regarding  them.  What,  for  example, 
'•ould  have  been  more  inspiring  at  that  time  than 
to  receive  from  him,  shortly  after  my  return  to  San 
Fiancisco,  such  words  as  tliese:  "I  have  read  your 
liist  volume  with  so  much  interest  that  I  am  hungry 
for  those  to  come.  You  have  handled  a  complex, 
sometimes  even  tangled  and  tautological  subject,  with 
so  mueh  clearness  and  discrimination  as  to  render  it 
not  merely  useful  to  the  man  of  science,  but  attractive 
to  the  general  reader.  The  conscientious  labor  in  col- 
lecting, and  the  skill  shown  in  the  convenient  arrange- 
ment (jf  such  a  vast  body  of  material,  deserve  the 
highest  praise." 


33C 


A  LITERARY  PILGRIM. 


h:i 


In  Cambridge!  I  called  on  Arthur  Gilman,  who  went 
with  me  to  the  Riverside  I^ress,  the  establishment  of 
H.  O.  Houghton  and  Company,  where  I  saw  Mr 
Scudder,  who  wrote  for  Evcnj  Saturdaij.  Mr  Scuddtr 
asked  permission  to  announce  my  forthcoming  work 
in  his  journal,  but  I  requested  him  to  say  nothing; 
about  it  just  then.  I  was  shown  over  the  buildings, 
obtained  an  estimate  for  the  [)rinting  and  binding  nf 
my  book,  and  subseipiently  gave  them  the  work, 
sending  the  (■U'ctroty[>e  plates  there.  One  thousand 
copies  only  were  at  iirst  j»rinted,  then  another  thou- 
sand, and  a  tliird;  the;  three  tliousaml  sets,  of  five 
volumes  eacli,  being  fdlowed  by  other  thousands. 

Wednesday,  the  2Gtli  of  August,  after  calling  mi 
several  journalists  in  JBoston,  we  took  the  boat  tor 
Nahant  to  find  Mr  Longfellow,  for  he  was  absent 
fiom  liis  home  at  Cambridu^e.  Xeither  was  ho  at 
Nahant.  And  so  it  was  in  many  instances,  until  we 
began  to  suspect  that  most  Boston  people  had  two 
J  louses,  a  city  and  a  country  habitation,  and  lived  in 
neither.  From  Nahant  we  went  to  Lynn,  and  thence 
to  Salem,  wliere  we  spent  the  night  undisturbed  I)y 
witches,  in  a  charming  little  antique  hotel. 

DuriiiiT  the  afternoon  we  visited  the  rooms  of  the 
scientific  association,  and  in  the  evening  Wenddl 
Phillips,  who  gave  me  a  welcome  tliat  did  my  heart 
good.  A  bright  genial  face,  v,  !'h  a  keen,  kindly  (ye, 
and  long  wliite  Jiair,  a  fine  figure,  tall  but  a  littkj 
stooped,  I  found  him  the  embodiment  of  shrewd  wis- 
dom and  practical  p!iilanthro})y.  There  was  no  cant 
or  fiction  about  him.  His  smile  broke  upon  his  fea- 
tures from  a  beaming  lieart,  and  his  words  were  )>ut 
the  natural  expression  of  healthy  tlioughts. 

He  comprehended  my  desires  and  necessities  on  (he 
instant,  and  seating  himself  at  his  table  lie  daslicd 
off  some  eiglit  or  ten  letters  in  about  as  many  min- 
utes, keeping  up  all  the  time  a  rattling  conversation, 
neither   tongue  nor  pen  hesitating  a  moment  for  ;v 


PHILLirS,  WHITTIEE,  LONGFELLOW. 


337 


wiinl;  and  it  was  al)Out  me,  and  my  work,  and  Cali- 
fornia, and  wliom  I  should  sec,  that  ho  was  talking. 
Sor  was  this  all.  Next  morninf^,  in  Boston,  he  handed 
iiic  a  package  of  letters  addressed  to  persons  whom  he 
tlioiight  would  he  interested  in  the  work,  and  whose 
ii;mies  had  occurred  to  him  after  I  had  left. 

Later  he  writes  me:  "  Your  third  volume  has  come. 
Tliaiiks  for  your  remembrance  of  me.  I  read  each 
rli;i[)ter  with  growing  interest.  What  a  storehouse 
you  provide  for  ever}'  form  and  department  of  history 
ill  time  to  come.  I  did  you  no  justice  when  you  first 
o|Mned  your  plan  to  me.  I  fancied  it  was  something 
like  the  French  MeDKjii'c's  2)our  Servir.  But  yours  is  a 
liistoi-y,  full  and  complete;  every  characteristic  amj>ly 
illustrated;  every  picture  preserved;  all  the  traits 
marshalled  with  such  skill  as  leaves  nothinij  further  to 
lie  (K'sired.  Then  sucliamjile  disquisitions  on  kindred 
topics,  and  so  much  cross-light  thrown  on  the  j»icture, 
you  give  us  the  races  alive  again  and  make  our  }>ast 
ixal.  I  congratulate  you  on  the  emphatic  welcome 
the  j)ress  has  eveiywhere  given  you." 

How  dill'erentiu  mind,  manner,  heart,  and  head  arc 
till'  men  we  meet! 

John  G.  Whittier  was  a  warm  personal  friend  of 
riiilhps,  and  to  him  among  others  the  latter  sent  mo. 
A\  went  to  Amesbury,  where  the  poet  resided,  the 
•  l.iy  after  meeting  PhilHps  in  Boston.  A  frank,  warm- 
iit  arted  Quaker,  living  in  a  plain,  old-fashionc.'d  village 
lioiisc.  lie  gave  me  letters  to  Longfellow,  Emerson, 
and  Doctor  Barnard.  "I  have  been  so  much  in- 
terested in  his  vast  and  splendid  plan  of  a  history  of 
the  western  slo[)e  of  our  continent,"  he  writes  to  Mr 
I -oiiM follow,  ''that  I  take  pleasure  in  giving  him  a 
iiotc  to  thee.  What  material  for  poems  will  be 
u  itln  red  up  in  his  volumes!  It  seems  to  mc  one  of 
till'  noblest  literary  enterprises  of  our  day." 

'■  This  1  will  deliver,"  said  I,  picking  up  the  one  ad- 
tlirssL'd  to  Longfellow,  "if  I  am  permitted  to  retain 
it ;  not  otherwise.   We  in  California  do  not  sec  a  letter 

Lit   I.nu.    22 


83S 


A  LITERARY  PILGRIM. 


;   i 


li 


i; 


ii 


;   i 

i            i 

n 

!  ' 

Ui 

from  Wliitticr  to  Loiiij^fcllow  every  day."  He  laii^licd 
and  replied:  "My  letters  are  getting  to  be  common 
tniougli  now."  I  <lid  not  see  Mr  Longfellow,  but  he 
wrot(^  nu!  very  cordially,  praising  my  book  and  icgret- 
ting  he  should  have  missed  my  call. 

Informed  that  Professor  Henry  Adams,  editor  of 
the  North  American  Review,  was  staying  a  few  milts 
from  Salem,  I  sought  him  there,  but  unsuccessfully. 
Next  day  I  met  accidentally  his  father,  CharU's  Fian- 
cis  Adams,  to  whom  I  expressed  regrets  at  not  having 
seen  his  son.  He  said  he  woidd  speak  to  him  for  iiic. 
and  remarked  that  if  I  could  get  Francis  I?arkni;m  to 
review  my  book  in  the  Xorth  Ameriran  it  would  1k'  a 
great  thing  lor  it,  but  that  his  health  and  preoccupa- 
tion would  probably  ))revent.  He  gave  me  sevi  ral 
letters,  and  I  left  full  copies  of  my  printed  sliruts 
with  him. 

Now  of  all  things,  'great  things'  for  my  book  1 
covcti'd.  So  to  l*arkmnn  I  went.  I  found  him  at 
tfamaica  IMains,  where  he  resided  during  summn', 
deep  in  his  literary  work.  vVfter  all,  the  worker  is  the 
man  to  take  work  to,  and  not  the  man  of  hisuir. 
^fr  l*arkman  was  a  tall  s])ai'e  man,  with  a  smiling  iaoe 
and  winning  manner.  I  noticed  that  all  great  men  in 
the  vicinitv  (jf  l^(»ston  were  tall  and  thin,  and  woic 
smiling  faces,  and  indications  of  innate  gentleness  ot' 
character. 

"This  shows  wonderful  research,  and  I  think  your 
arrang(>ment  is  good,  but  I  should  have  to  review  it 
upon  its  merits,"  sai<l  ^[r  Parkman. 

"As  a  matter  of  course,"  I  readied. 

"I  do  not  know  that  I  am  (;om[)etont  to  do  llio 
subject  justice,"  he  now  remarked. 

"I  will  trust  you  for  that,"  said  I. 

And  so  the  matter  was  left;  and  in  due  time  sev- 
eral spltMidid  rmiews  appeared  in  this  important 
journal  as  the  different  volumes  were  published. 

I  was  told  to  call  on  the  liev.  Janu^s  Freeman 
Clarke.     I  did  so,  but  he  was  not  at  home. 


OLIVKR   WENDELL   HOLMES. 


339 


I  rocuiJin 


Koturning  to  Boston,  wo  took  tlie  train  for  Concord 
;iii(l  s()U<4"ht  Mr  Enicrson.  Ho  was  L(raii..as  cnout^li, 
;iiiil  nave  me  some  letters,  one  to  Doctor  i)raj)er,  and 
(iiic  to  ^Tr  l^ryant;  but  in  fill  liis  doini,'S  the  great 
jiliiliisoplier  was  cold  and  unsympathctif.  He  was 
the  ojiposite  of  Wendell  l*hillips,  who  won  the 
li(\ii-ts  of  all  that  stood  before  him.  l^liss  touched 
a  responsive  chord  when  he  broke  out  upon  trcne- 
ali>uy.  Of  course  l^liss  knew  all  about  the  Emerson 
faiiiily,  n':'l  easily  estal)lished  a  distant  relationship. 
Tliere  were  few  families  in  New  Knglan<l  with 
wliom  the  Blisses  could  net  claim  kinshij).  ^Fy  com- 
panion seemed  to  warm  with  the  subject.  It  was  his 
practice  now,  the  moment  the  topic  of  Native  Jfaci'M 
was  exliausted,  to  break  forth  on  genealogy.  That  I 
l;i('\v  restless,  took  up  my  hat,  or  even  rose  to  leave, 
laade  no  difference  with  him;  when  once  launched 
upon  his  subject  he  must  go  through  all  the  gener- 
al iens,  root,  truidv,  and  branches.  He  quite  tliawed 
jjiierson  bef(>rc  he  left  him.  In  my  pi-esent  frame  of 
mind  I  was  (juite  nnidy  to  (juarrel  with  any  j»ei'son 
whose  hobby  came  in  conflict  with  my  hol)hy,  or 
wlio  did  not  regard  my  <'rt'orts  with  the  considera- 
tion 1  thought  they  deserved.  I  was  possessed  of  an 
idea. 

Fiom  Concord  we  wont  again  to  Cnmbi-idg(>,  to  sec 
.Mr  llowell.s  of  the  Atlantic  Mont/i/i/.  Ai'ter  some 
coiivei'sation  upon  the  subject  it  was  iinally  arranged 
that  J  Miss  was  to  write  an  article  of  some  t<'n  pages 
oil  my  work  for  this  magazine.  There  were  many 
oi!i<  IS  we  called  on,  some  of  whom  were  at  home  and 
>oiiic  absciut,  among  the  latter  nuich  to  my  regret 
( >liver  Wendell  Holmes,  Kdwai'd  Everett  Hale,  and 
•lanies  T.  Fields.  Fi'om  Doctor  JEolnu'S  I  sid>se- 
i|iii  ntly  receive<l  many  letters,  which  brouglit  with 
thoiii  a  world  of  j-efreshiuix  encourat^ement.  So  <>'enial 
and  hearty  were  his  oxj)ressions  of  praise  that  the 
manner  of  bestowal  doubled  its  value  to  me.  Vvw 
can  appreciate  the  worth  to  an  author  of  eneouiaging 


340 


A  LITERARY  PILGRIM. 


words  at  such  a  time  and  from  such  a  source.  "The 
more  I  read  in  your  crowded  pages  the  more  I  find  to 
instruct  and  entertain  me,"  he  writes.  "I  assure  you 
that  Robinson  Crusoe  never  had  a  more  interested 
reader  among  the  boys  than  I  have  been  in  following 
you  through  your  heroic  labor." 

And  later  ho  writes:  "I  have  never  thanked  you 
for  the  third  volume  of  your  monumental  work.  This 
volume  can  hardly  bo  read  like  tlie  others;  it  must  be 
studied.  The  two  first  were  as  captivating  as  romances, 
but  this  is  as  absorbing  as  a  philosophical  treatise 
dealing  with  tlie  great  human  problems,  for  the  reason 
tliat  it  shows  how  human  instincts  repeat  themselves 
in  spiritual  experience  as  in  common  life.  Yourlalior 
is,  I  believe,  fully  appreciated  by  the  best  judges;  and 
you  have  done,  and  are  doing  a  work  for  wdiicli  jios- 
terity  will  thank  you  when  thousands  of  volumes  that 
j)aradc  themselves  as  the  popular  works  of  the  day 
are  lost  to  human  memory." 

I  very  much  regretted  not  seeing  Mr  PTale,  thonuh 
I  was  gratified  to  receive  a  letter  toward  Christmas 
in  which  he  wrote:  "At  this  time  the  subject  has  to 
nie  more  interest  than  any  other  literary  subject.  I 
liave  for  many  years  intended  to  devote  mv  leisure  to 
an  historical  work  to  be  entitled  The  Paeijic  Ocenu  (iikI 
ffs  S/iores.  But  I  sliall  never  write  it  unless  I  ha\ c 
first  the  opportunity  of  long  and  careful  study  anion^- 
your  invaluable  collection."  Tlie  library  was  placrd 
at  Mr  Hale's  free  disposal,  as  it  was  always  open  t<> 
every  one,  but  the  leisure  hours  of  one  man,  though 
it  should  be  for  several  lifetimes,  I  fear  would  iiipt 
make  much  showing  beside  the  steady  labors  of  tni 
to  twenty  men  for  years.  One  Saturday  we  went 
to  Martha's  Vine^'ard,  where  President  Grant  was 
enjoying  the  intellectual  feasts  spread  before  him  by 
the  encamped  nicthodists. 

I  had  seen  all  the  chief  literary  editors  of  Boston, 
ami  w^as  well  enough  satisfied  with  the  results.  I 
knew  by  this  time  that  my  book  would  receive  sonic 


THOMAS  WEXTWORTH  HIGCIIXSON. 


341 


good  reviews  in  that  quarter.  So  I  concluded  to 
leave  Boston. 

On  our  way  to  New  York  we  stopped  at  Newport, 
and  called  on  T.  W.  Hi<j;;4inson,  who  lik*'  (Jlilinaii 
aspired  to  the  popuhir  side  of  thin<TS.  Tlie  result  of 
tlii-i  interview  was  half  a  dozen  letters,  in  which  he 
took  care  to  state,  tiiat  he  mijj^ht  show,  I  suspect,  liow 
guarded  lie  was  in  avoiding  ini})()siti()U,  that  President 
(Jilinan  had  introduced  nie,  and  that  Clarence  King 
endorsed  nie.  Afterward  came  a  review  of  the  Xatice 
Races  in  Sen' briers  Monfltlij  Mwjadne. 

!None  were  kinder  or  more  cordial  tlian  Hig- 
ginson,  who  on  several  occasions  went  out  of  his  wuy 
to  serve  me.  As  I  was  on  mv  wav  to  New  York,  J 
>a\\  his  letters  were  directed  to  Mr  Keid,  ^Iv  Hi[»lev, 
Curtis,  Holland,  Parton,  (lodkin,  Ward,  and  others. 
The  lirst  read  as  foUows:  "I  wish  to  introduce  a  gen- 
tkinan  whom  I  count  it  an  lionor  to  icnow,  Mr  11.  H. 
l)ancroft,  of  San  Francisco,  who  has  hei.'U  giving 
we;ikli  and  time  lor  vears  to  a  work  on  the  wild  races 
of  the  Pa(.'iiic  States.  His  first  volume  sliows  a  re- 
search very  rare  in  America,  and  is  founded  on  his 
own  remarkable  library  of  sixteen  thousand  volumes, 
colk'cted  for  the  purpose.  The  book,  if  carried  t>ut 
as  it  is  begun,  will  be  an  honor  to  our  literature.  ]\Ir 
Ixincroft  asks  nothing  from  us  but  sympathy  and  God- 
speed. I  have  been  most  favorably  im[)ressed  by  what 
1  have  seen  of  him  personally,  and  am  assured  by  !Mr 
Claivnco  King  that  he  is  thoroughly  respected  and 
valued  in  San  Francisco." 

And  again  later  in  Scrihncrs  J\f()nfJiIi/:  "  It  is  safe 
to  say  that  there  has  not  occurred  in  the  literary  his- 
tory of  the  United  States  a  more  picjuant  surprise  than 
\\\\v\i  Mr  Hubert  Bancroft  made  his  ap}tcarancc  last 
autiunn  among  the  literary  men  of  the  Atlantic  cities, 
Ixiiriiig  in  his  hand  the  first  volume  of  his  jxreat  work. 
That  California  was  to  be  counted  ui)on  to  yield  wit 
and  poetry  was  known  by  all;  but  the  deliberate  re- 
sult of  scholarly  labor  was  just  the  product  not  rea- 


i: 


342 


A  LITERARY  PILGRIM. 


Mtiiubly  to  1)0  expected  from  a  conmiiinity  thirty  years 
old.  That  kind  of  toil  seemed  to  belong  ruthcr  to  a 
soeiety  a  little  maturei-,  to  a  region  of  i)iiblie  libraries 
and  universities.  Even  the  older  states  had  as  yet 
yielded  it  l)ut  s|)aringly;  and  was  it  to  be  expected 
from  San  Franci.'-co?  J  lad  Mr  Bancrol't  jHesinited 
himself  wearing"  a  specimen  of  the  sequoia  r/ifjantcc 
ibr  a  button-hole  bouquet  it  would  hardly  have  seemed 
more  surprising." 

Now  in  all  tliis  surely  there  was  nothing  very  diili- 
cult.  It  was  as  the  Boston  correspcjndcnt  of  tin; 
S[)ringrield  Ucpuhllcan  had  said:  "  Little  or  nothing 
has  been  heard  here  of  his  labors,  and  the  surprise 
and  pleasure  with  which  so  magniticent  an  under- 
taking has  been  welcomed  by  eastern  scholars  nuist 
have  ••ratihed  Mr  Uancroft." 

It  was  no  great  achievement  to  visit  these  men  and 
connnand  their  attention.  In  one  sense,  no.  And  yet 
in  the  state  of  mind  in  which  I  was  then  laboring,  it 
was  one  of  the  most  disagroeal)le  tasks  of  my  lii'e,  and 
sti-ong  as  I  usually  was  physically,  it  sent  me  to  bed 
and  kept  me  there  a  fortnight. 

I  had  been  entirely  successful;  but  success  here  was 
won  not  as  in  San  Fiancisco,  by  years  of  tender  devo- 
tion to  an  eimobling  cause,  but  by  what  I  could  not 
l)ut  feel  to  be  an  humiliating  cour-.e.  I  souglit  nioii 
whom  I  did  not  wish  to  sec\  and  talked  with  them  ol" 
things  about  which  of  all  others  it  was  most  distaste- 
ful to  mo  to  converse.  It  was  false  pride,  however, 
and  my  extreme  sensitiveness  that  ke})t  alive  these 
feelings.  Good  men  assui'ed  me  that  I  was  not  over- 
ste[>ping  the  bounds  of  literary  decorum  in  thus 
thrusting  my  work  Ibi-ward  upr)n  the  notice  of  tin; 
world;  that  my  i)Osition  was  jieculiar,  and  that  injus- 
tice to  my  undertaking  in  San  Francisco  I  could  ii«>t 
dti  otherwise. 

I  had  met  with  nuich  that  was  assurinof,  but  I  had 
likewise  encountered  much  that  was  disheartening. 
1  found  here,  as  elsewhere  in  the  affairs  of  mankind, 


CLIQUES  AND  COTEKIES. 


Stf 


livpocrisies  and  joalousits.  Literature  has  its  coteriea 
;iihI  coiiveiitioiialisnis  as  well  as  all  other  forms  of  hu- 
uiiui  association.  Had  I  been  able  at  this  juncture 
to  adopt  for  a  time  boheniian  life, — I  do  not  mean  in 
its  lowest  as[>eets,  but  to  liave  minj^led  with  the  better 
class  of  book-fanciers,  to  have  eaten  and  hobnobbed 
with  the  dilettanti  in  literature,  such  a  course  would 
fir  a  time  have  liad  an  effect  on  my  undertakiui;';  but 
ir  \V(>iil(!  have  been  of  little  lastiui;  advantaL'^e,  for  the 
work  must  stand,  if  at  all,  t>n  its  merits  alone. 

There  ai-e  various  cruiues  whose  nu-n.bers  regard 
iiotliiu}^,  new  or  old,  exce[»t  through  the  eye-glasses 
of  the  fraternity;  religious  cliiiues,  sonu;  of  which 
uric  icady  to  take  exception  to  anything  which  may 
he  said  about  religion  in  general,  but  all  ready  to  par- 
dun  nmeh  that  was  not  orthodox  provided  some  sect 
ethir  than  their  own  is  severely  enough  criticised. 
Then  there  are  sciiMice  cli<jues,  and  science  fanatics, 
wliich,  when  they  get  off  on  some  pet  theovy,  are  as 
i)a(l  as  the  religious  faiuitics.  All  the  world  nmst  see 
with  their  eves,  and  reach  conclusions  in  undemon- 
strahle  [)ro[)ortions  as  they  have  done,  or  ))♦>  anathc- 
iiiatized.  A  bo«»k,  therefore,  which  touches  religion 
is  sure  to  be  rou«'hlv  handled  by  some  of  reli'j[ion's 
many  opposhig  champions,  or  if  it  conflicts  with  any 
of'  the  ])et  o))inions  of  science,  certain  nienjbers  of  that 
fiaternlty  an;  t)bliged  to  rush  to  the  rescue  of  some  of 
its  iiimmtable  truths. 

Besides  these  arc  newspaper  parties  and  ]»rejudlces, 
l)usiness  and  political  cli<pus,  all  of  which  have  their 
cedes  of  ethics,  which  signify  self  and  party  interests, 
so  that  a  book  or  author  undergoing  judgment  nmst 
ho  regarded  from  one  or  more  of  these  points  of  \iew 
liefere  the  matter  of  merit  can  be  taken  into  consider- 
iitinii.  But  in  coming  from  the  remote  and  unletteretl 
West  I  was  free  from  any  of  these  trannnels,  which, 
theiigli  they  might  have  hel[)cd  me  in  one  way,  would 
liav(;  hampered  mo  in  another. 

From  the   bejjinning  of  civilization,  I  believe,  by 


JMt 


l\ 


SM 


A  UTERARY  PILGRIM. 


I 


I 


I 


wi 


I 


)    I 

1    i 
1 


1  I  I 


tlie  east  the  west  has  been  considered  barbaric  in 
Icarnini'  and  hterature.  (^rrooce  first  tauijht  lionic, 
Koine  western  Kuro[)e,  Europe  America,  and  eastorii 
America  the  western.  Thus  the  east  has  alwavs  Ik  M 
tlie  west  in  some  sort  of  ct)ntem[it,  so  far  as  rchgimi 
and  k'arning  were  concerned.  Th(^  east  was  the  ori^:!- 
nal  scat  of  civilization,  wlience  ra(Hated  the  more  rt 
fined  rehgion,  witli  art,  science,  and  hterature.  Tin 
west  has  always  been  illiterate,  infantile  in  learniii'', 
with  crude  ideas  in  relation  to  all  that  creates  or  rej-- 
ulates  the  liigher  intellectual  life. 

All  through  the  dark  age  the  east  hid  learning,  leijt 
pcradventure  it  miglit  be  liarmful  to  the  west.  Keli- 
gions  always  arose  in  the  east,  and  every  western 
j)r<)phet  in  all  times  and  places  has  been  without  honor. 
We  are  likewise  indebted  to  the  east  ft>r  all  of  our 
dark  chWs  of  tyranny,  superstition,  priestcraft,  ainl 
kingcraft,  for  all  the  horrors  of  religious  wars  and  ])ei- 
secution  for  opinion's  sake,  for  the  nmrder  of  millions 
of  human  beings,  for  con'^eptions  as  absurd  and  void  of 
reason  as  any  which  ever  flitted  through  the  savagr 
mind.  The  opinions,  dogma  ,,  and  practices  which  tlie 
stronger  race  has  from  the  first  endeavored  to  iiillict 
upon  the  weaker,  the  superii)r  culture  on  the  inferior, 
have  been  for  the  most  part  false  and  ini(|uitous.  Tlir 
in(|uisito)'*ial  rack  and  thumb-screw  have  not  been  em- 
ployed for  the  })ropagation  of  truth  but  of  errof. 
Witches  Were  burned  not  because  the  victims  w<  iv 
witches,  but  because  the  superior  p(mer  pronounced 
them  such.  And  all  this  time  the  west  has  been  figlit- 
ing  out  its  salvation,  fighting  for  deliverance  from  tlie 
tyrannies  and  superstition  of  the  cast.  Mingled  with 
enforced  errors  of  the  east  have  been  somo  ;:;rains  ct" 
truth  which  the  west  has  in  due  time  come  to  acce[)t, 
winnowing  away  the  rest.  The  chaff  has  been  moun- 
tainous, the  truth  in  scattered  grains. 

Therefore,  lest  the  east  should  become  too  arrogant 
and  domineering  in  its  su[)eri()r  culture,  it  may  prolit.i- 
bly  bear  in  mind  two  things:  first,  thatas  the  west  rises 


JOHN   W.  DRAPER. 


345 


into  supremacy  the  oast  decays,  and  tliat  tlioro  is 
iinw  IK)  further  west  for  restless  leaminj^  to  reach, 
ralcstineaiid  E;jjyi)tare  dead;  the  greatness  of  Atl ions 
;iimI  liome  dates  two  thousand yi'urs  buck;  London  is 
-KiwiiiLr  old  ;  if  New  York  and  Boston  do  not  sonic; 
tli'ie  (lie  of  old  a;j;e,  they  will  prove  exceptions  to  the 
lull';  so  that  if  the  glory  of  the  world  he  not  some 
(|,iv  ci'owdcd  into  San  Franeisro,  it  will  be  by  reason 
uf  new  laws  and  new  (Uvelopraents.  In  a  word, 
Ma!?saehusetts  and  Conneetieut  may  yet  go  to  school 
to  ATichigan  and  California, 

In  New  York  1  met  (xeorge  l^aneroft — ^with  whom, 
by  tbc  way,  I  am  in  no  way  related — who  gave  me  a 
1(  Iter  to  Doctor  Draper,  and  was  kind  enough  after- 
\v;iitl  to  writ(^ : 

'•To  me  vou  rcMider  an  iiiestiniabl(>  benefit;  for  vou 
liiitig  within  reach  the  information  which  is  scattered 
ill  1  liousands  of  vohimes.  I  am  glad  to  see  your  work 
v.rlcoined  in  ]Ouro])e  as  well  as  in  vour  own  eountrv. 
III  the  universality  of  your  researches  you  oeeupy  a 
til  1(1  of  the  deei)est  interest  to  the  world,  and  with- 
out a  rival.  Press  on,  my  dear  sir,  in  your  great 
'  iitt  rpiise,  and  bring  it  to  a  elosc  in  the  meridian 
i['  life,  so  that  you  may  enjoy  your  well  earned 
honors  during  what  I  hope  may  be  a  long  series  of 
later  years." 

Doctor  Draper  was  a  man  well  worth  the  seeing; 
fynin  iirst  to  last  he  proved  one  of  my  warmest  and 
luost  sympathizing  friends.  After  my  return  to  San 
IVaiiiiseo  he  wrote  me:  "I  have  received  your  long 
expreted  tirst  volume  of  the  Native  Jiaces  of  the  Pacific 
>'''/'.s', and  am  full  of  admiration  of  the  resolute  man- 
in  !•  in  which  j'ou  have  addressed  yourself  to  that  most 
1  iIm -lious  task.  Many  a  time  I  have  thought  if  I  were 
lliii'ty  years  younger  I  would  dedicate  myself  to  an 
«  xploiation  of  the  political  and  psychological  ideas  of 
the  aborigines  of  this  continent;  but  you  are  doing 
Hot  uiilv  this,  but  a  s^reat  deal  more.  Your  work  lias 
taught  me  a  great  many  things.     It  needs  no  praise 


i- 


'i 


■4'^ 


3»r. 


A  LITKRARY  PILGRIM. 


from  inc.    It  a\  ill  be  coiitiulted  and  read  centuries  after 
you  are  pfone." 

On  Friday,  the  11th  of  September,  I  had  an  intt  r- 
view  with  Charles  Nordhoff,  during  which  he  a;^rrt(l 
to  re\ie\v  my  work,  and  requested  me  to  a|)j)()int  some 
day  to  spend  with  him  at  Alpine,  on  the  Hudsdn, 
when  we  could  talk  the  matter  over.  1  named  tin- 
followinLj  Thursday.  The  day  was  rainy,  but  within 
his  hospitable  doors  it  juissed  delii^htfully.  I  had  lat(l\ 
seen  (George  liipley  of  the  Tribime,  whom  Wciulrll 
Philli[)s  prouijunced  the  first  crilie  in  America,  Mi' 
(jr<;dkin  of  the  Aation,  and  several  others,  who  hiid 
given  mc  encouraging  words,  so  that  1  felt  prepared 
to  enjoy  the  day,  and  did  njost  heartily  enjoy  it. 

I  liad  likewise,  the  Tuesday  before,  completed  ar- 
rangements with  Messrs  i).  A]:)pleton  and  Coni[)aiiy 
ctf  New  York  to  act  as  my  publisheis,  upon  terms 
satisl'actorv  r-nouLrh.  I  was  to  furnish  them  the  work 
}»rinted  and  bouml  at  my  own  cost,  and  they  were  to 
account  for  the  same  at  one  half  the  retail  prices. 
The  contract  was  ibr  live  years. 

It  is  ])erhaps  one  of  the  severest  trials  of  an  authors 
life,  the  lirst  coming  in  contact  with  a  publisher.  It 
certainly  would  have  been  so  with  me  in  this  instance, 
had  I  i'elt  <lependent  on  any  of  them.  After  having 
spent  all  this  time,  money,  and  brain-work  on  my  book, 
had  the  printing  and  publishing  of  it  been  at  the 
mercy  of  others,  I  should  have  felt  very  unhap[)y  over 
tlie  })rospect.  I3ut  as  1  proposed  printing  the  work 
mvself  I  had  no  I'ear  i-eLjfardino:  a  imblisher. 

But  there  was  still  enou<;h  of  ne<>'otia1ing  to  mak-' 

o  o  o 

mc  feel  more  keenly  than  ever  before  what  it  is  to 
bring  one's  brains  to  market.  There  before  the  august 
maujnato  lies  for  dissection  the  author's  work,  the 
results  of  years  of  patient  tod,  reprcscntuig  innumer- 
al>le  headaches  and  heartaches,  self-sacritice,  weari- 
ness of  soul,  and  ill-afforded  money.  Author  ainl 
])ublisher  are  in  solenm  deliberation.  One  regards 
this  unborn  liook  with  that  fond  enthusiasm  by  whuli 


> 


THE  PUBLISHERS. 


847 


ulniic  a  writer  is  sustained  in  his  work,  the  vahie  of 
ulilch  lie  measures  by  the  pains  and  sutlerini^s  it  has 
cdsl  him.  The  other  eyes  it  with  suspicion,  looks 
uiioii  the  author  and  iiis  work  with  a  eold  e(»nnner('ial 
ivi  ,  coneerned  not  a  whit  for  the  worth  of  thu  man 
i)V  lor  tlie  vahie  of  the  book  to  mankind.  The  dol- 
lars that  are  in  it,  that  i.^  all  the  bniin-dealer  cares 
about. 

Since  I  should  requii-e  some  co[)ios  in  San  Fran- 
ei.>co,  and  some  in  L(jndon,  J?aris,  and  Leipsic,  I  had 
(■iiiichidid  to  do  my  own  pi'intinn',  and  arran^•e  with 
(I  itain  publislujrs  to  act  lor  me.  ^Ir  James  C.  l)erb\ , 
hint  her  of  (fcorjje  11.  Derbv.to  whom  I  was  indebted 
I'll  my  initiation  into  the  book  business,  was  then 
iiiaiKi'L^'cr  of  Applcton's  subscrii)tion  dej)artniunt,  and 
uiiili'i'  his  direction  my  book  fell.  Very  little  W(»rk  was 
jiui  upon  it,  for  the  subscription  de[)artnient  was 
(iMwdcd  with  books  in  which  the  house  had  deeper 
[iiriuiiary  interest  than  in  mine;  yet  1  was  satishcd 
villi  the  sales  and  with  the  general  management  of 
till'  business. 

One  of  the  first  things  to  bo  done  on  my  return  to 
Xr\v  York  from  Boston  was  to  examine  the  collection 
nf  books  ^Fr  Bhss  had  made  while  in  Mexico  and 
>v\vi-i  such  as  1  wanted.  This  was  the  agreement:  I 
was  to  take  every  book  which  my  collection  lacked, 
ami  should  I  select  IVom  his  collection  co[)ies  of  some 
hi'uks  which  were  in  mine,  such  iluplicates  were  to  bo 
ivtuiiii'd  to  him.  In  a  private  house  near  Astor  |)lace, 
nii^s  had  taken  rooms,  and  there  he  had  his  books 
liiought  and  the  cases  oi)ened.  We  h)oked  at  them 
all  systematically,  and  such  as  I  was  not  sure  of  pos- 
sessing were  laid  asiile.  The  result  was  an  addition 
totlie  libi'ary  of  some  four  or  five  hundred  volumes, 
>i  !it  to  San  Francisco  in  six  ca.ses.  To  make  sure 
lit  these  books,  I  looked  after  them  myself;  I  would 
ii'it  intrust  them  to  the  care  of  any  one  until  thev 
\vi  ic  safely  delivered  to  the  railway  company,  with 
the  .sliip[tiiig  receipt  in  my  pocket. 


'  T7  1 


,1: 


8M 


A  LITERARY  PILGRIM. 


The  30th  of  Supteinhcr  saw  ino  aj^ain  in  New 
Haven.  President  I'oitcr  and  most  ot"  the  professors 
liad  ruturnod.  By  this  time  tho  cnfhnsiasni  with 
Avliich  I  was  wont  to  tell  my  story  (hn'in;j^  thcj  cai  liir 
sta-^cs of  niy  ])il<'iiniai'c  had  somowliat  wan»'d.  Xcvci- 
thclfss  I  must  make  a  few  calls.  .Presidrnt  l^ortci'  I 
found  exceptionally  warm-liearted  and  sincere.  Ih 
gave  me  letters  of  strong'  connnendation  to  President 
Eliot  of  Harvard  and  to  Itohert  ( '.  Winthrop.  At 
the  next  eonnnencement  he  likewise  enrolletl  my  name 
amonfj  the  alumni  of  Yale  as  master  of  arts. 

Thence  I  j)roceedi'd  to  see  professors  !^^aI'sh. 
l^rewer,  and  others.  While  wanderint''  among  tliosu 
classic  halls  I  encountered  ( 'larenci;  KiiiL^',  who,  yoiiiiL,' 
as  he  was,  had  acquired  a  rej)Utation  and  a  posit  idii 
second  to  no  scientist  in  America.  He  was  a  man  <  \' 
much  genius  and  rare  cultivation.  In  him  were  unit( d 
in  an  eminent  degree  the  knowle<lge  acquii-ed  Ironi 
hooks,  and  that  which  comes  from  contact  with  nicii. 
]lis  shri'wd  connnon-sense  was  only  sui-passed  hy  hi> 
high  literary  and  st'i(.'ntilic  attainments,  and  his  hiD,!  I 
leai-ning  was  so  seasoned  with  iinalfectod  kindness  ^t' 
heart  and  fresh  l)Uo3'ant  good  humor  as  to  conunniid 
the  profound  admiration  of  all  who  knew  him. 

He  was  my  ideal  of  a  scholar.  Tlun-e  was  an  oiIl;- 
inality  and  dash  ahout  him  which  fascinated  me.  Ih' 
could  do  so  easily  what  I  could  not  do  at  all;  he  w;is 
so  young,  with  such  an  elastic,  athletic  brain,  trained 
to  do  his  most  ambitious  bidding,  with  such  a  wt  II 
om])loYe(l  past,  a  proud  present,  and  a  brilliant  furuir. 
and  witiial  such  a  modest  bearing  and  genial  kind- 
heartedncss,  that  I  could  not  but  envy  him.  W^- 
descriptions  of  scenery  arc  as  line  as  Iluskin's  and  l;ir 
more  original. 

Jle  had  often  been  in  my  libraiy,  and  meeting  ni' 
now  at  Yale  he  shook  my  liand  warmly  as  I  thankdl 
him  for  speaking  so  kindly  of  mc  to  Mr  Higginson  at 
Newport  a  few  days  before.  After  some  further  c'lii- 
ver.sation  I  was  about  to  pass  on  when  he  spoke  again: 


CLARENCK  KIXO. 


"  How  arc  you  ^ittiiij^  aloiii^?" 

*'  Very  well,"  .said  I,  "  Ixttcr  than  I  liad  anticipated." 

"Can  I  do  anythin;,'  for  you?"  lio  asked. 

'' Xo,  I  tliaiik  you,"  I  replied.  Then  suddenly 
r''(i'll(;ctinij  nivselt'  I  exclaimed,  "Yes,  you  can:  re- 
\ir\v  my  hook  in  some  jouinul." 

'■  I  will  do  so  with  j»leasure,  if  I  am  comjietont." 

"  If  you  are  not,"  said  J,  "with  all  your  personal 
ohsi  rvations  upon  the  ]?acilic  slope,  I  may  as  well 
cease  lookitif^  for  such  men  in  these  part;-}." 

"Well,  I  will  <lo  my  best,"  Ik;  re[)lied. 

I  then  asked  him  for  wiiat  journal  he  would  write 
a  ivview.  Ho  sui^^ested  the  Xvrth  American  or  the 
Atlxiidic.  I  told  him  ]*arkman  was  enj.,M,i«'e'd  for  one 
and  J^liss  for  the  other.  Tlu>n  he  said  ho  would  con- 
tribute a  scricsof  short  articles  to  the  Nation.  When 
I  iclurned  to  New  York  I  saw  Godkin.  Any  jour- 
nalist was  glad  to  |)rint  an^'thin^^  Clarence  Kinuj  would 
write,  so  that  ^fr  (lodkin  readily  assented  to  a(hnit  in 
tlic  colunnis  of  thciVr^^'oy^  ^IrKing's  reviewof  my  work. 

1  was  greatly  disai>|)ointed,  now  that  King  luul 
ai^rccd  to  write,  that  his  ai-ticle  eould  not  a[)pear  in 
till'  Atlantic,  where  were  first  published  his  matcldess 
(liaiiters  on  MountalneeruKj  In  the  Sierra  \eraiJa. 
That,  liowcvci",  was  out  of  the  fpiestion,  as  Bliss  was 
iiigaged  for  that  article,  and  probably  had  it  finished 
l»y  this  time. 

Meanwhile  Mr  Howells  wrote  me:  "I  have  not 
li  aid  a  word  from  INIr  Bliss,  and  it  is  quite  too  late 
t'l  net  anything  about  your  bf)ok  into  the  Xovember 
imiiiher."  I  inmiediately  called  on  Bliss,  lla  was 
htiried  deep  in  some  new  subject.  The  money  I  had 
L;i\iii  him  for  his  books  had  made  him  comparatively 
iiii|('[)endent,  and  when  he  had  revelled  in  reading  and 
t'li:icc()  smoke  for  a  time,  and  had  concluded  his 
litriary  debauch,  there  would  be  time  enough  left  to 
'il'|i!y  himself  to  the  relief  of  corporeal  necessities. 

■  lUiss,  how  progre'^ses  that  article  for  the  Atlan- 
ta'/'^ I  asked  him. 


'•'.n 


m 


m 


^5 


800 


A  LITERARY  PILORIM. 


"  Finely,"  ho  roj)lic'(l.    "  I  liaw  it.  nearly  complof -  1." 

"  Show  nu3  sonu"  of  it,  will  you?  I  want  to  sec  how 
it  rcjuls." 

"  1  cannot  sliow  it  you  in  its  present  stale."  lit; 
stannnercd.  "Next  time  you  come  in  you  shall  sec 
it."  ^  ^  / 

T  was  satisfied  lie  had  not  touched  it,  and  T  w  idfi^ 
IIowiUs  as  much,  at  tlie  same  time  mentioninn"  mv 
iiitcrvimv  with  Iviiiiu^. 

"  [  wrott!  you  some  days  a,i]fo,"  ITowclls  rc^jthd, 
under  date  oV  Octoher  7,  1871,  "that  ]Mr  lUiss  had 
not  sent  me  a  ri'vi(>w  of  your  hook,aftci-  |)romi>in"_;-  f" 
do  so  within  ten  days  from  the  time  when  In-  c;i!li  I 
with  you.  So  if  ^Ir  Kinijf  will  review  it  for  me  I 
sJiiill  he  delii^hted."  At  the  same  time  I  [owells  teli - 
j.;'ra|»lied  me,  "Ask  Clarence  KiiiLC  to  writ(>  i-e\  iew,' 
An'aiii  I  souL;'ht  tlu^  retreat  of  lUiss.  I  ioimd  liini 
still  ohlivioiis.  ''I'lie  fact  is.  [  think  my  peiipafelic 
friend  tremhled  somewhat  at  the  responslhility  of  liis 
jtositioii.  and  he'  hiid  hetakeii  himself  to  a  vigornus 
litei-aiy  whist linijf  ttt  keep  his  couraL;'e  up. 

When  once  cornered,  he  admif ted  h(>  had  net 
written  a  word  of  tlu^  pro|)(»sed  i-eview.  I  then  teld 
him  of  Clarence  1\ in  14's  offer  and  ^^r  I  lowells'  wis'ic-, 
and  asked  him  if  hi>  would  he  willhi'jj  to  t^ivc!  his  n- 
view,  wiiii-li  1  knew  he  would  never  writ<\  to  some 
other  journal.  I[i'  cheerCidly  e\pre><sed  his  williii'i- 
ness  to  do  so.  and  eoiiLTrat  Ilia  ted  nieeii  havin<>' seemvil 
so  al)le  a  writ(>r  as  Mr  Kiii;^.  Therein  he  acted  thi' 
gentleman.  The  7th  <»!' I  )eceir.her  Mi-  I  fowelU  wiidN 
]\\c:  "  I've  just  read  the  proof  of  ('larelice  Kinjs 
ivview  of  you  for  i\\c  At/aiific — twelve  j)aLjj(>s  of  niiil- 
loyed  ]»i'aise."  Conceniiu'Lr  this  rcvii'W  .\Ir  Kiiiy'  wieti" 
from  { 'oloi'ado  till'  (Jtli  of  November:  "  I>eh('Vi'  iiic, 
1  ]\:i\v  found  e-reat  ])leasure  a.nd  |)ro!it  in  twice  (mi'c- 
fullv  readiiiu'  tiu^  IIVA/  '/'rihcs.  ( )f  its  i^xi-elleiice  a-; 
a  [lieee  of  critical  literai'y  comhinalion  I  was  Itillv 
persuaded  from  the  tirst,  but  only  on  actual  studv  <l  > 
I  reach  its  true  value.      .\lt hough  the  driest  of  (!i' 


!  n 


WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 


Sol 


five  volumes,  It  is  simply  fascitjatiiig  to  the  Ktudcnt 
who  realizes  the  vital  value  of  savajjjc  data.  Ap- 
prcciatiuiif  and  <'iiji)yiiiLC  your  ixxtk  as  iimch  as  T  do, 
I  vet  liiid  a  dillicultA'  1  have  never  hefore  expericiiei'd 
in   utteii'ptiuii^   to    review    it.     The    hook    ilselC    is  a 


;i:j^aiitie   rt'View,  ai 


ul  so  eraiinned   and   crowded  witli 


I'lit  that  the  narrow  limits  of  an  Atlmitic  re\iew  are 
iii^iitlieicnit  to  even  alludi;  to  ail  the  classes  of  fact. 
T'l  even  intimate  the  \aried  class  of  material  is  im- 
|iiis>il)le.  I  rather  fall  hael.  to  the  plan  of  following' 
Mill  from  \\\v  Arctic  coast  down  to  I'ananui,  tracinj^ 
thi'  jtrominent  chan<x<'s  and  elements  of  devi  ;  pment, 
^i\iii;^^  you  of  course  full  credit  for  the  good  judgment 


a  1 1(1 


•lecilon  v<»U  have  sliown. 


I 


rolesso 


r  .1.  A.  ( 'huii'h    reviewed   the   work  in 


an 


al  le  and  lengthy  artich  in  the  (rd/o.ri/;  ajid  foi-  the 
.\''fi<>it  the  hook  was  intrusted  to  Mv  .Iosej)Ji  Au- 
di rsoii  of  Watei'hury,  ( 'oiniecticut,  a  most  aMe  ei-iiic. 
I  filled  to  s(^e  Nlr  IJryant,  hut  was  gi-atified  hy 
the  receipt  of  a  letter  in  which  he  expressed  him.ielf 
ill  the  following  words:  "I  am  amazed  at  th(>  extent 


and  the  minuteness  of  your  researches  into  the  his- 
ti  rv  and  customs  of  the  ahori'iinal  Irihes  of  westi>rn 


Nert 


nierica. 


Y 


oui' woi'k   will   reniam   to  c:>!nin>_r 


a'^vs  a  treasurediouse  of  information  on  that  sulijeet. 


The  ( 


alilorman   |onrnals  jirmted  majiv 


I  ted 


.f  th 


e  eastern 


and  I'lui'opi^an  lettiTs  sent  me,  and  Mi"  Uryiiut's  com- 
manded  their   special    admivit ion.  on   account    ot"    its 

•  liifegiaphy,  which  was  iHauiifully  clear  and  linn  I'or 
a  i»oi't,  and  he  of  I'ighty  yeai's.  When  will  men  of 
U'eniu>  learn  to  write,  and  those  who  aspire  to  gi'eat- 
iie.>  rc.'ise  ti»  he  ashamed  of  fail'  penniaii-diip  ' 

the  -Jd  of  OctolK'r  I  ran  down  to  Washington 
t"  ■■<■{'  Mr  Spolford,  liiirai  iaii  <»r  congress,  and  .lolm 
<•     Anu's,     liltrarian     and     supt  i  inteiideiit    of    |inllic 

•  I'll  iiiiients.  I  had  been  |>resented  with  many  of  (he 
K"^eriunent  |»uI»licatioiis  for  my  lihrary  for  the  la-t 
till  years  and  had  hoiight  many  more.  What  I  wtuited 
iii'w  was  to  have  all  the  con'''ressioMal  documents  an  I 


1 


M 

T        1     i 

■■■i  ' ' 
'i 

'I 


^     H 


352 


A  LITERARV  riLGRnf. 


t: 


fi^ovcriimcnt  piil>licatioiia  sent  mc  as  they  were  printed. 
Mr  Ames  in^bnned  me  that  he  could  send  cert;iiii 
books  from  his  department.  Then,  if  I  could  <^>'[. 
some  senator  to  put  my  name  on  his  list,  I  should 
receive  every  other  })ul)lic  document  j)rinte<l,  twthc 
co[)ies  of  whicli  were  jjjivcn  each  senator  for  distiihu- 
tion.  This  Mr  Sai'ij^cnt  kindly  consented  to  do  for  iiu', 
and  to  him  1  am  indebted  for  constant  favors  durin.,' 
his  term  in  Washington. 

(\dlinL;"  at  the  lilM'ary  of  congress,  I  was  infoi-niiil 
by  Mr  Spoilord  that  for  some  time  past  ho  had  in 
tended  to  ask  my  j>ermission  to  i-eview  the  Satirr 
IiKccs  i'or  the  Xew  York  llenifd  in  an  article  sonic 
i'our  <'olumns  in  length.  I  assun^d  him  that  foi'  >o 
distinLfuished  hoiioi-  I  should  ever  hold  mvseU"  his 
debtor.  1  then  h)oked  thi'ough  a  room  craniiiicd 
with  duplicates,  to  ascertain  if  there  were  any  liool^^ 
amouLf  them  touchiuiif  mv  subiect  which  I  had  not  in 
my  liltr.'iry.  1  I'ound  nothing.  The  regulations  .1' 
the  congi-essional  libraiy  required  two  copies  nf 
every  book  j)ublished  in  the  United  States  to  I'c 
deposited  for  copyright,  ;tnd  these  two  copies  niu^t 
alwnys  be  ke])t.  Any  surplus  above  the  two  copies 
weie  called  dui»licates,  and  might  be  exchanged  I'cr 
other  books. 

Earlv  in  the  writing  of  the  Xatice  liCiccs  I  had  It  It. 
the  necessity  of  access  to  certain  important  woiks 
existin''-  onlv  in  mannsci-ii)t.  These  were  tlie  JIisf,>ri'( 
Aj>'>/o(/('h'cK  and  1  listeria  General  of  Las  Casas,  in  it 
tJK'n  jirinted,  tiie  Hlstorin  Anfi(/ii<(  de  Niiera  Kspihui  of 
l'\ithei-  Din'an,  and  others.  These  manuscripts  were 
nowliere  lor  sale;  but  few  cojiies  were  in  existence, 
and  besides  those  in  the  hbrary  of  congress  1  kii  w 
of  none  in  the  United  States.  I  saw  no  otlier  way 
than  to  have  such  works  as  seemed  nect>ssarv  to  nic 
C()[)ie(l  in  whoK;  or  in  part,  and  this  I  aeconiphshcd 
l)y  tlie  aid  of  copyists  through  tlie  courtesy  ol  dr 
S[)oll'ord.  The  labor  was  tedious  and  expensive;  hut 
1   could  not  go   forward   with   my   writing  a'ld  led 


AARON  A.  RAROEXT. 


3S8 


that  fresh  material  exi.sted  whicli  I  had  the  money 
to  ])rocure. 

S(!Voral  months  previous  to  my  journey  to  Wash- 
in"  ton  Mr  H.  R.  Coleman,  who  had  lonsx  been  in  the 
I  iiililoy  of  our  Hrin,  and  who  in  the  s[)riii<^  of  1874, 
\vliilf'  f)n  a  visit  to  the  east,  had  kindly  consented  to 
attend  to  some  business  for  me,  liad  been  there  witli 
Icttt'i's  of  introduction  to  senators  and  others,  and  had 
siMiuvd  nie  many  advantaj^es. 

i"'rnm  Philadelphia,  under  date  of  the  24th  of  April, 

Mr  ( 'olcman  miuU)  a  full  report.     His  mission  was  to 

examine    the    works    in    the    conirressional     library 

toii(liin<jf  tlie  Pacific  coast  and  ascertain  what  mate- 

riiil  was  there  not  in  my  collection.     Then  he  must 

set  men  at  work  extractini^  certain  matter  wiiieh  was 

(IrsciibiMl    lo   him,  and  finally  secure   all   the   public 

documents,  eitlu'r  by  i^ift  or  purchase,  j)ossible  l'<»r  the 

liiiiary.       I    need  only  say  that  all  this  was  aceom- 

plislied  l)y  him  to  my  entire  satisfaction.     "I  found 

the  ■  V,.  re  plenty  of  copyists,  meehanieal  jj^eniuses,  in 

Wasl.iiijjton,"  lie  writes,  "but  few  who  could  d<t  this 

wiiik.     The  two   manuscripts  you  spoke  of  I  found 

to  <i insist  of  eij^ht  bulky  quarto  vohum-s,  written  in 

a  ^iMtd  clear  hand.     One  of  the  persons  I  enLjau^ed 

tliioiiLjh   th<^   advice   and   assistance   of  y\v   Spoflbi-d 

was  a   Frenchman,   quite   old,  a  man  of  exjx'iience, 

and  t(\ichcr  of  the   French  and  Si)anish  laiiij^uaiivs  in 

^\;l>hill^•t(»n."     Senator  Sai'ijent  rendered   Mr  ('<de- 

m.iti  most  valuabh^  assistance,  helpinn*  him  to  sevc^ral 

hundred  volumes  of  books.     'I'he  difhculty  in  (^)llect- 

iiiM-  i^overnmeiit  documents  lies  not  in  obtainintj^  cur- 

I'lit   |iiiblications  but  in  matheiiiiij^  tlu^  old  volumes, 

sinre  few  of  the  many  departments  retain   in  their 

njliiv^  back  volumes.     I  and  my  aLjents  have  visited 

\\  I  hi.M'L^ton  many  times  on  tlu'se  missions. 

Ill  lore  leaviiiijf  San  l^'rancisco  I  had  jdace.d  the 
ni.in;iMi'nicut,  of  the  X'ffirc  Jiaccs  in  London  in  the 
Ii.uhIs  of  ^Fr  JCllis  Head,  ajjfent  in  San  Francisco  for 
.Si'ot<'h  and  I'iiij^lish  firms.     Mr  Keatl's  London  agent 

Lit   Ind.    'jJ 


1-1 


S.Vi 


A  T.ITErvArvY  PTLORTM. 


lif 


■was  Mr  Jolin  TJiown  <»('  WootU'ord,  Essex,  an  intclli- 
ijCt'iil  iuid  wcaltliy  jj^ciitli'Tiiaii,  who  iVoin  llio  fir-.st  to-ik 
a  warm  interest  in  the  work.  Alter  consultation  wiih 
a  literai-y  f'rii'ii<l  tln'  jmltliration  of*  tlio  ))ook  was  oiKn  d 
]\Iessrs  liOiiLTiuans  aii«l  ('oin|)any  of"  l*atciiiost('r  l{o\\, 
and  accejjtiMl  on  tlicir  usual  forms:  namely,  ton  |iii' 
cent,  commissions  on  tradcjsale  ))rice,  I  to  f'ui'nisji  tin  jn 
tlie  |»i'inted  copies  unUound,  wit  Ii  twenty-five  cojiits  (' ii- 
editors.  A  calile  des|);itcli  I'rom  Mr  IJi'ownfoMr  l{i;,(l 
in  Sau  J'^rancisco  wliicli  was  foi'warded  t(t  New  N  oik, 
conveyed  to  me  the  welcome  infelli'Ljence  -  welconic 
l>ecause  ])ul)lishers  so  unexci'[)tionahle  had  undertakin 
the  puhlicalion  of  my  l)ook  on  t<.'rms  so  lavoi'.ihle. 

lionjjcmaiis  advised  l*i'own  to  sp<'nd  tliii-ly  jioumU 
in  adxertisiu'j;',  and  if  the  f)ook  was  well  )■(  eelNcd  h/ 
the  jii-ess  to  ad<l  twenty  to  it,  an<l  sUf^'iJi'ested  <haf  tilty 
pounds  should  i>e  depoaited  with  him  lor  that  ])ur| 


J-: 


'^x])ensos  m 


Lend 


on  were;  conunLj  on  apace 


)OS('. 

that 


almost  simullaneouslv  with  the  news  Ihat  the  Messiv 


1 


•ii;j;inans  were  my  jv 


ul.lisl 


ii^'i's,  ajipeai'ed    a,   I'ecjUi'st 


from  Mr  l^rown  for  one  hundred  pounds.  1  was  in 
New  \'ork  a!  tile  lime,  and  not  in  the  host  ot"  spirits, 
and  since  I  must  hear  ;dl  the  ex[)ense  ol'  puhlicalion, 
and  lurnish  the  puhlishei-s  the  book  ahi'atiy  printetl, 
the  f'uither  demand  of  five  hundred  dollars  for  ex- 
])enses  which  one  would  think  th<'  hook  .should  pav  if 
it  wer"  woith  the  puhlication,  sti'uek  me  ]H'(  uli.iiiv. 
NcM'i-fheless,  1  sent  tlie  money.  I  was  ros<  hcil 
that  nothing"  within  my  power  to  i'em<»vo  should  stnini 
in  the  way  of  a  fu'st  and  complete  success,  Aiainaiul 
asjjain  have  1  ])huiL,'ed  recklessly  for^\aJ•d  in  my  inidcr- 
takinu^s  rcLj^anlless  of  consequences,  perlorinin^'  w-'ik 
which  ne\er  wotdd  he  kiioNvi)  o)  a)i])reciated,  and  imt 
for  the  hahit  of  thorouulmess  wliieh  had  hv  this  lii 


lie 


hecome  a  })art  of  my  natiu-e,  tnioht  as  well  iievei  have 
been  done,  spendini^  time  and  ])ayin<j^  out  money  with 
a  dojrtjred  determination  to  spend  as  lonjjf  as  time  er 
motley  lasted,  whether  I  cotdd  see  the  end  or  not. 
After  all,  the   business  in    Jiondon  was  well   a!id  eco- 


THK  L0XGMAX3.  ?^r,:, 

iiuiiiically  manaGfod.  It  would  liavo  cost,  iiicfivo  tlnu'>; 
as  inuf'li  liad  I  <i^otio  ovd-  and  attiMidcMl  to  it  iiiysi  If, 
aiitl  tliou  it  woidd  have  \)crn  no  Iti'ltri"  d«»ii<'.  I  \va>< 
>iic'cially  desirous  my  work  should  l>t'  Itrouujht  to  tlu^ 
iithntiou  of  l^ULj'lisli  scholars  and  rcs  icwcrs.  I  cx- 
]i!aiiicd  to  ^Ir  J>i'o\vii  what  T  had  done  and  was  doin;^ 
ill  America,  and  suijfLJfcstcd  he  should  ad'i])t  sonnsuch 
iniu'sc  their-.  And  I  must  say  he  cntci'fd  ujion  tlio 
task  with  enthusiasm  and  pcrioiuKd  it  well. 

Ivu^lishman-likf,  ^Ir  Ih'own  thought  tiie  London 
(diiinii  should  he  dedicated  to  some  ]']tiLilishman  prom- 
iiniit  in  science  or  letters.  I  had  no  oljjcctions,  though 
ji  w  as  a  ]ioint  which  never  woultl  l!a\  c  ocfnu-rcd  to  mo. 
lliit  it  has  always  been  my  custom  to  yield  to  every 
iiitiiligent  suiufL^estion,  ])rom|)ted  hy  the  (;ntlrusiasm  dt" 
ail  agent  oi'  assistant,  {ii'ovided  his  way  of  doinif  a 
lliiiiL,^  \\as  in  my  o])inion  no  worse  than  my  way. 

Mr  ih-own  sUL^^i^'ested  the  name  of  Sirdohn  Luh- 
K'lck.  and  sent  me  a,  ])i'inte(l  ]»a;;'e:  '■  I  di'dii-ati'  tliis 
wuik  to  Sir  John  Jjuhhock,  IJai-t..  M.  W,  F.  IJ.  S.,  as 
a  tiiiiuteof  mv  hiu'h  esteem."  J  n  this  I  ac(|uit'sced.and 
Ml  I  he  dedication  was  made,  in  a  neat  note  Sii'  .lohn 
arKiKtwlediiced  t he  eom|)liment,  writiiiij;  Mr  I'rown  the 
|i!iii  of  j'\hruary,  ''J  am  much  ig-ratilied  at  the  honor 
ef  lia\iiin'  so  vahiahle  a  work  dediijited  to  me."' 

To  Ml-  Ih-own  1  had  seid;  from  San  I'^raneisco 
cnjiiiN  of  volume  1.,  with  lett(M's  en(-losed,  to  ainait 
n  (l'i/.<  II  |)romiiu'nt  men  in  l^mjj'land,  amon,ijth(-in  Ilei- 
;.ei-t  SpeiK-er,  Sir  Ai-thur  Helps,  E.  K  Tylor,  II.  (J. 
katiiam,  Sir  .lohn  ljuhl)o<-k,  Tyndall,  lluxhy,  y\n\ 
Miillif.  Iwccky,  Carlyle,  and  Mureliison  'I'hese  vol- 
uiin  ■>.  In-inM-  'author's  copies,'  hore  no  imprint,  and  mv 
jiiihii-hei's  ohje(-ted  to  llieir  hein^'  L;i\en  oui  without 
tS  I  ,oii(loii  imprint,  So  these  copies  wert>  ri-tuined  to 
ill''  ii\  Messrs  jjonu'inans,  and  olh;rs  yiven  the  'jeiitle- 
iiiiii  1  had  named. 

The  a(-knowled<,,'mcnrs  made  me  hy  these  nu  li.  re- 
'•'ivi(|  ol"  e(»urse  after  my  I'eturu  to  San  Francisco, 
weic  heai-t  V  aiul  free. 


%v\ 


SS6 


A  LITERARY  PILGRIM. 


^Fr  Herbert  Spencer  writes  me:  "In  less  tlian  a 
year  I  hope  to  send  you  the  first  volume  of  tlic  Prin- 
ciples of  Sociohupj,  in  whicli  you  will  see  that  I  Iiavr 
made  t'refjucnt  and  important  uses  of  your  book;"  ami 
indeed  nothinfj  could  be  more  flatterin^uj  than  tlic  iv)'- 
erences  therein  made  to  the  Native  h'/urs.  "DujIii;^ 
my  sununer  trip  in  Kurope,"  says  Mr  Oilman  in  a 
letter  from  Baltimore,  "I  have  frecpiently  Jieard  yoiir 
iLjrcat  work  spoken  of,  but  nowhere  with  more  roni- 
mendaticu  than  1  heard  fi'om  Herbert  Si^'iicci'.  i 
am  sure  3'ou  must  lie  more  than  paid  I'or  your  labor 
by  the  wi(le-s|)read  satisfaction  it  lias  given." 

Doctor  Latham,  the  eminent  ethnologist  and  lin- 
guist, wi'itcs:  "Tlie  first  thing  I  did  after  reading  it 
\sirh  pleasui'c  and  |>j-()fit — for  I  can't  say  how  liiglily 
]  \ahn?  it — was  to  indite  a  revi(»w  of  it  I'or  tiui  Kx<nii- 
I   was  greatly   pleased   with   Mr  W.  Vi.   II. 


niov 


]jecky's  lettiTs,  regarding  liim,  as  I  did,  as  one  «'t' 
the  pni't'st  wi'itei's  of  JMiglish  living.  "I  I'ejoice  to 
see  the  l»ook  advancing  so  rajiidly  to  its  eom])letinn. ' 
he  savs,  "for  1  Jiad  murli  feared  that,  hke  Ihickle's 
history,  it  was  projected  on  a  scale  too  gigantic  lor  any 
singlt!  individual  to  a<3com])lish.  It  will  be  a  noMo 
monument  of  American  iMiergy,  as  well  as  of  Ameri- 
can g(Miiu><."  And  again,  "  [  was  talking  of  your  Imdk 
the  other  day  to  itcrbert  Spencer,  and  was  gi'atilird 
ti>  hear  him  speak  warmly  of  the  helj)  he  had  found 
in  it  in  writing  his  priisent  work  on  sociology.  I 
always  think  that  to  take  a  con.s[)icuous  position  in 
a  yo'  \v;[^  litcM'ature  is  one  of  the  very  highest  intellect- 
ual aims  which  an  ambitious  man  could  as[iire  to; 
and  wliiMiever  the  history  of  .Vmerican  literatui" 
comes  to  l>e  written,  vour  book  will  take  a  very  high 
j)lace  among  the  earliest  works  of  great  learning 
Amevic.'i  has  j)roduced."  I  was  ulad  also  to  have  so 
graceful  a  writer  as  the  author  of  J'J/iropcttn  .l/o/v^/v 
speak  encor.-agingly  of  n>y  styK',  which  mon^  than  any 
one  thinuf  connected  with  my  work  1  had  lameiitcl. 
'*  I  must  add,  too,"  he  concludes  his  first  letter  to  mo, 


LATHAM.  LECKY,  HELPS. 


X' 


'tli.'it  your  style  is  so  /cry  vivid  and  flowinuf  tliiit 
tin  hook  becomes  most  readahle  even  to  those  who 
Xnko  no  special  interest  in  the  subject." 

Sir  Arthur  l[elj)s,  wiiting  just  before  his  deatli,  rc- 
lu.irks:  "I  thiniv  that  the  introductory  chapter  is 
(  \.  1  llent;  and  what  strikes  me  most  in  it  is  the  ox- 
(•(  1  (hni^  fairness  with  which  he  treats  the  r(>searches 
iiiiil  the  theories  of  other  inquirers  into  subjects  akin 
t(i  his  own." 

I  well  remember  witli  what  trepidation  I  lind 
th.iii^lit  of  adfh-es.sing  these  gi'eat  men  before  T 
h('_;;ni  to  pubhsh.  I  wondered  if  tliey  would  even 
;ni^\\ \r  my  letters,  or  takt;  the  troubhj  to  tell  me  to  ly^o 
1o  till'  devil.  Then  I  thought  upon  it,  and  said  to 
iiiy.-rir,  Thouij;'!!  smalU'i"  tlian  many  you  are  bi^^'ofr 
than  Noim;,  and  the  lowest  [)<»ly[)us  of  a  sciiijbler  ulm 
>ii<iiil(|  addi'uss  you,  you  would  not  liesitate  to  aiiswci' 
kiiiilly.  Then  I  took  Jienrt  and  said  M^aiii,  Is  not  a 
p'Miud  of  i;old  as  Lfood  to  me  brou^'iit  bv  a  doidvev  as 
i'\  a  sa^'e ;  1  know  these  facts  of  mine  are  v.-duablt! 
to  iiKii  of  science.  Tliey  are  the  ]»ase  <jf  all  their 
I'ahrirs;  they  nuist  liave  them.  And  in  the  form  1 
M  i\r  (hi-m  no  g-reat  amount  of  discernment  is  neces- 
sary to  assure  me  that  this  material,  wlien  well  win- 
in  iw  id,  is   in   a  sha[»e   more   accessible    than   it   was 

hclnrc. 

or  the  newspnpers  and  magazines  containing  the 
lit  >t  r(!\iews  and  descrijttions  of  the  library,  Mr 
II;  'Uii  j)un-hased  from  fifty  to  five  hundred  co]>ies, 
ami  (hstributed  tlu^ni  among  tiie  lil)raries,  journalists, 
ami  literary  men  of  the  world.  Not  having  a  pro|ier 
ii>!  ot'  .selected  iu>wspa[)ers  and  of  the  libraries  in 
Eini.pe  and  America,  I  em[iloyed  the  mercantile  and 
statistical  agency  association  of  Xew  York  to  pre- 
l»;uv  lue  such  a  list,  writing  them  in  two  blaidv-books. 
Thriv"  Were  eight  hundred  and  twenty  ]MU'o|ieaii, 
A>Miic.  and  colonial  libraries  written  in  one  book, 
iiii'l  the  Kiu'opeaii  and  American  news[)apers  and 
l  liili  d  States  libraries  in  the  other  book. 


m 


\  r 

^1^ 


i  1  ■; 


\  : 


!i 


Bi 


If 


358 


A  LITKRARY  riLORIM. 


Tt  WMs  tliroUL^li  ^Fi-  lvl\vai'<l  Jticksoii,  rf»r!-os])r)ii(l(iit 
ill  Sail  l''|-;Uicisc()  ot' tlic  London  Tiiin'.-i,i\\i\i  t]\r  \iif/n' 
J'tiics  was  first  ln'oiin^lit  to  tlio  notice  of  that  jouina!. 
!^^l•  .laci<son  couM  not  assuro  nic  |>ositiv(Iy  that  tlio 
ivvicw  would  a|i]M>ai'.  Mr  Walter,  the  editor,  would 
not  eiili^^liten  Mr  .lackson  on  the  suhjeet.  I  Mislnd 
to  purchase  four  huii(h'ed  copies  ot  the  issue  « nn- 
taininin'  the  notice  of  the  Natirc  /fares,  |)i'ovided  thciv 
sliouM  i)e  >Mch  an  issu<\  And  in  this  way  I  \\a> 
ol)li'4'ed  to  ,i;ivt;  my  order  to  Mr  lirown. 

I'' roll)  liOiidoii  th(!  .".d  of  Aju'il  I  ST.")  ^Fr  Ih'owii 
writes:  "At  last  tlu;  'rimes  lias  spoken,  and  I  ha\e 
f>ueeee(l(d     ill    securillL?    four    lliuuired    copies   of    tin- 


pa] 


iitei'  i»v  (hilt  ol   clos(>  warchiii"'. 


W 


lell 


F 


aw   1 


])ulilisliers  some   tiiiK!   ivj^o,  with   thi;  usual   iiide|)rii- 


delici'  of  the    y 


niies 


tl 


ley  wo 


iild  not  take  an  order  for 


the  paj)er,  or  e\en  the  moiK'V  for  four  huiKh'ed  eopicsti 
lie  struck  olf  fi'i-  me  when  a  revii-w  di<l  a|ipear,  and  ;ill 
1  (-(mid  n'et  was  this, — that  on  the  day  a,  re\ie\v  a[i- 
pe.ired,  should  a  i'e\iew  aji|ieai-  at  all,  if  I  sent  down 
to  the  (itlice  hefoi'c    I  |   A.M.  t  hev  Would  stl'ik<f  oil'  w  li.lt 


I 


wan 


ted.      So     I     kel.t 


pt   a  person  watchmi;' — as   I   wa 


soinetiiiK's  late  ill  Li('iii?.j"  to  town — with  money  for  tin' 
i('\  iew,  and  he  luckily  .saw  it  in  the  morning',  ru-lh d 
down  to  the  olliee,  aiid,  he  tells  me,  in  less  than  .i 
(piarter  of  an  lioiir  tin'  I'xtra  four  hundred  copies  weiv 
struck  otf  and  made  (»ver  to  him.  The  co[iies  art;  now 
heiii;^"  posted  according  to  the  addresses  you  scut  inc. ' 


Tn  Octoher  IM74  one  of  the  editors  of  tlu^  h'of- 
nisclir  Zeituiiij  was  in  San  I'^rancisco  and  visited  tin." 
lihrary    fre(|Ueiitly.     llewroie  I'or  his  |)aper  adesciip- 


ti(»n   of   the    lihrarv    and  tln^   \(((li'e   I'd 


ces. 


Ite^idi 


o-ivini;-  me  a  list  of  the  (}eriiian  magazim.'S  and  iv- 
\iews  to  which  the  hook  should  he  sent,  and  iiiucli 
other  \-aluahle  information.  J  )r  Kai'  Andree  of  tin) 
d'/dhns,  Dresden,  e\|>ressed  ^reat   admiration   \  <v  (lie 


woiK,  and   insti 


•ted 


sexcral  articles  coiu!er-nniu'  il  lu 


that  most  vahiahle  and  inllueiitial  jouinal. 


DAWKIXS  AXD  TYLOR. 


3.-0 


Tn  Sopt(Miil)cr  IHr.")  tlie  oiiiiiient  Eii^disli  scliolar 
A\'.  IJoyil  Dawkins  called  at  tlio  lil»iarv,  .i^iviiiL;-  mo 
j^'icut  jilcasun,"  in  liis  visit.  Wlit-ii  I  ])artc(l  w  itli  him, 
alui'  sliowiii^*  him  \\\v  atteuti(»n  witliin  my  jiowci",  F 
s!i['|Misr(l,  as  was  usually  tlio  case,  that  1  should  never 
sec  him  ai^^aiii.  It  was  with  <;reat  |>leasure,  thereture, 
that  I  i'(!eei\ed  a  letter  the  fulluwinn'  sjnini^^  "  ^'<^ul• 
wniidcrful   book  on   the    native   races  ot"   the    Pacilic; 


States,"  he  writes  IVom  Owens  Coll 


(...•,. 


Manchcsfti- 


tlh'  I  Ith  ot"  February  IISTO,  "has  bem  handed  to  nu! 
I'wr  review  in  the  J'Miiihniy/t,  and  bel'ore  I  review  it 
J  shoulil  1)0  very  much  oblij^'ed  it'  you  could  give  mo 
iiifiirmation  as  to  the  t'oUowiiig  details:  Vou  will  [xr- 
liiips  have  rorL!(»tten  the  wandciiu'''  iiUulishman  who 
cillcd  on  you  at  the  end  ot"  last  8e[)tembor,  and  wh(» 
li;id  just  a  hurrii'd  glance  at  your  libi'aiy.  Then  I 
]i;i(l  u<»  time  t<i  carry  away  anything  but  a  luer'e  gen- 
rr;il  imjtression,  which  has  haunted  me  over  since. 
And  sli;nig('ly  (inoiigh  your  books  awaited  my  return 
liouic.  1  want  details  as  to  youi'  mode  ot'  indexing. 
How  many  clerks  do  you  em[>loy  on  tlu,^  work,  and 
v.li.'it  soi-t  ol"  index  cards ^  ^'ou  shewed  all  this  to  me, 
bill  I  did  not  take  down  any  figures.  \  our  system 
i<eenis  to  me  wholly  ni;w." 

'•  Pray  accept  uiy  heartiest  thanks,"  writes  lOdwanl 
l!.  Tvl.«r  the  'Jjth  of  Febiiiarv  bS7.'),  "'  for  yoin-  ijift, 
<>\'  the  iirst  volume  of  your  great  work.  I.  need  not 
tnuibleyou  with  com[iliments,  t"or  thei-e  is  no  dou'-t 
i!mI  you  w  ill  find  in  a  few  uiouths'  time  that  the  book 
li,i<  received  more  substantial  testimony  to  its  value 
ill  I  lie  high  appreciation  of  all  I'^urojtean  ethnologists. 
I  .1111  writing  a  slight  notice  for  the  AvcKh'mij,  par- 
ti' uLnly  to  express  a  hope  that  your  sueeeeding  vol- 
iiiiies  may  throw  light  on  the  half-forgotten  problem 
"t  Ab'xieau  ei\ili/.ation,  \\iiieh  has  made  baldly  any 
|i:nMi-,.ss  since  JLumboldt's  time.  Surely  tlu;  Old  and 
Ni  w  Worlds  ought  to  join  in  working  out  the  «pie> 
li"ii  whether  they  had  bi;en  in  contact,  in  \\\\>  dis- 
liiet,  i)ef(ire  ( 'olumbu.s' time;  and  I  really  believe  that 


:!lu 


J 


300 


A  LITERARY  PILGRIM. 


in 


E 1 1" 


I 


1 


you  may,  at  this  momoiit,  luivc  tho  materials  in  yom- 
IuuuIh  to  briiiuf  IIk'  jiroMciu  on  to  a  new  stai^e.  i\Iay 
I  oouc'ludo  by  asking  you,  as  an  ethnologist,  not  t«> 
adlier'e  too  closely  to  your  intisntion  of  not  thcori/iiig, 
wliilo  tliere  are  suhjccts  on  whicii  you  evidentl}'  hii\i' 
llic  means  of  forming  a  theory  more  exactly  and  plcnti- 
I'ully  in  your  hands  than  any  other  antliroj»ologi.st." 

Jiefore  making  arianj^enunts  with  ^Tessrs  Loii''- 
mans  I  had  sai<l  notliiiig  about  a  puldislier  for  tin; 
Aaft'ce  J*iircs  in  France  and  in  (Germany.  1  now  n- 
(|ueHfed  ^Mr  Ih'own  to  ask  those  gtintleinen  if  tlicv 
had  any  objections  to  my  adopting  sudi  a  course,  and 
oil  receiving  inlbrmation  that  they  hail  not,  I  madi; 
j)i'oposals  to  Miiisonneuve  et  C'°,  Paris,  and  F.  A. 
]>i-ockhaus,  to  act  ibr  me,  whicli  were  accej)ted,  and 
copies  of  the  volumes  wei'e  sent  them  as  piiuted  by 
]\lessrs  Houghton  and  Company.  All  the  European 
]iul)]i.shers  were  anxious  to  Jiave  their  copies  in  ad- 
Aance,  so  as  to  pul)lish  sinndtaneously;  j)articulaily 
wei-(i  they  desii'ous  of  bringing  out  the  bo(»k  at  lea>t 
on  Ibe  very  day  it  was  issued  in  New  York. 

On  acci'[)ting  tlie  })ublication  of  the  Xaft'rc  R(io-< 
for  France,  Messrs  Maisouneuve  et  C'°  pi'omistid  to 
aimounce  tlie  work  with  great  care  in  the  biblio- 
gra])hical  journals  of  France  and  elsewhere,  deli\i  r 
copi(>s  to  the  principal  reviews,  and  use  every  exerliou 
in  Ibeir  j)o\ver  to  extend  its  inlluence.  Lucieii  Adam 
of  tiu,"  CoiKjrc's  Jiiteniational  ih's  jlnieriauiistcs  re- 
viewed tlu;  volumes  in  the  Recne  Llttcraire  ct  Po/i- 
t/(juc,  and  kindly  caused  to  be  inse!'te<.l  in  the  Umn: 
.liritan)iii]i(f  of  ^E.  l*icot  a  translation  of  Mr  Park- 
man's  review  in  the  Xorth  American.  An  able  artidt; 
oi'  twenty-iive  pages  from  the  pen  of  H.  Bler/y  ap- 
j)eared  in  the  Re  one  des  Deux  Mondes  of  the  loth  of 
May  187G.  Extended  reviews  likewise  appeai'ed  in 
Ja'  'Temps,  L((  Iie/)iil>fi(/ue  FraiK^'aise,  and  other  Fremli 
jouinals.  Mr  Jh-ockhaus,  the  Oerman  publishei',  took 
an  unusual  interest  in  the  book,  pronouncing  it  from 
the  lirst  a  work  of  no  ordinary  importance. 


MY  SCRAP-ROOKS. 


Ml 


T  cannot  ontor  more  fully  into  the  detail  «»f  ic- 
vi(  wers  and  reviews;  sufliee  it  to  say  that  two  lar<,'o 
quarto  yerap-ljookH  Were  lilleil  to  oveHlowiui,'  witli 
such  notices  of  the  Xdlirc  Ji(«'cs  us  were  sent  nie. 
Nt'ver  probably  was  a  book  so  "generally  and  so  fuvor- 
iihly  reviewed  by  the  best  journals  in  Kurope  and 
AiiHiica.  Never  was  an  author  more  suddiidy  or 
1111. ii'  thoroughly  brought  to  the  attention  of  learned 
and  literary  men  everywhere. 

Among  the  reviews  of  which  I  was  most  ju'oud 
wcic  two  cohunns  in  the  London  Tlmrs,  sonn.'  thirty  (»r 
I'urtv  i)au;'es  in  WivAVvsdninMvt'  I*i'rli'ti\i\\i\  cdlunms  in 
the  London  Slandard,  lengthy  articles  in  the  X<>rfh 
Aiiicricdx  Jicviciv,  the  New  York  lJKo>  d' Itnlin,  ]  lart- 
I'l-nl  Cnui'diit,  ]>oston  J'osf,  Adn-i'tlsi'r,  and  Joiinnd; 
S|iiingli(ld  liCjmhliciin,  Xe\v  Yoi'k  Trih'inc,  (liristimi 
I  niOii,  Xittioii,  and  l\)st;  Jti'itish  Qnt(ii<'rfi/,J-Jdiiihi(iyh 
J!'ri<'ir,  London  Xatiire,  Sutta'diiij  Itcvlcii',  S2>('cti(for, 
Aiiiili'iit)/,  I'hiladelphia  Xcrt/t,  .iinvrlmn,  .it/didlo 
M'nif/di/;  Scrihncr.s  M<if/<r.tii<',  2'/ic  ijahixij,  I*icue 
J'n/ii!(itic,  licrui'  dcs  Ih-iix  }f(nnlc!i,  Hongkong  J'rcss; 
/lulschnj't  fiii'  Lander,  Mittln  Uuuycn  dcr  A'(7/.v.,  etc., 
Kuropa  niid  dds  Aits/<ntd,  (jrermany;  and  hi  ]\c  del 
}i  iirm  Miitido.  I  might  mention  a  liundi'ed  others, 
hut  if  [  did,  all  would  not  be  una(lulterate<l  jiraiso. 
A  I'lW  so-called  hon<»rs  fell  upon  me  after  }»ublication, 
such  as  being  made  lionoi-ary  member  i>{'  the  Massa- 
chusetts historical  society,  the  American  Anti(iua- 
ri.ui  sdcioty,  the  Philadelphia  Numismatic  soci(>ty, 
and  the  Bufl'alo  Historical  society,  for  which  duo 
thanks  were  L-iven.  Flatterinjjf  reco'jfuitions  canic  also 
m  fiirm  of  diplomas  and  comj)limentary  cerl  ilicates, 
I'rnhahly  there  was  no  subject  connected  with  this 
wr^t(  rn  coast  Avhich  would  havi'  attracted  the  atten- 
t'liii  (if  so  many  of  the  first  scholars  of  America  and 
Kuiope,  Vtdiich  would  have  bi'ought  the  autluir  into 
su(h  pi-ominence  throughout  the  learned  world,  which 
wniild  have  secured  him  such  unlimited  and  uncjualilied 
pi'ui.se  from  every  source. 


I 


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33  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBST'iR.N.V    '458 J 

(716)  872-4  >03 


^ 


302 


A  LITERARY  PILGRIM. 


!«. 


t., 


Mi 


It  was  a  subject  in  wliieli  all  were  interested.  Tlu} 
study  of  society  was  the  new  and  most  attractive 
study  of  the  age.  Everything  relating  to  man,  liis 
habitation  and  his  habits,  his  idiotiyncrasies  and 
his  })eculiarities,  national,  social,  and  individual,  all 
taught  a  lesson.  The  sago  sat  at  the  feet  of  the 
savage,  and  there  studied  man  as  he  is  i  i  a  state  of 
nature,  before  he  is  disguised  by  the  crusts  uixl 
coverings  of  society.  "I  could  wish  that  the  wholu 
live  volumes  were  already  available,"  writes  Herbert 
Spencer  to  me  in  February  1875,  "and  had  been  so 
for  some  time  past;  for  the  tabular  statements  and 
extracts  made  for  the  Descriptive  Sociolocjy  by  Pio- 
fessor  Duncan  would  have  been  more  complete  than 
at  present." 

Among  my  warmest  friends  was  Charles  C.  Jmios 
Jr.  of  Now  York,  who  reviewed  the  Native  Races  in 
the  Inch'jfcndent,  devoting  several  articles  to  cacli 
volume.  IMiese  articles,  besides  beino;  critical  rcvit^ws, 
were  analytical  and  descriptive  essays,  dividing  and 
taking  up  the  sulyect-matter  of  each  volume,  willi  a, 
view  <.»f  popularizing  the  theme.  IMr  Jones  was  fnlly 
indjued  with  the  subject,  and  his  articles  were  veiy 
interesting.  To  me  he  writes:  "Your  fifth  volume, 
ex  Joiio  auctoris,  reached  me  to-day.  Fresh  from  tlio 
perusal  of  its  charming  pages,  I  offer  you  my  sincere 
congiatulations  upon  the  completion  of  your  imdjn khi 
opus.  Great  have  been  the  pleasure  and  profit  whicli 
I  have  experienced  in  the  perusal  of  the  volumes  as 
they  have  been  given  to  the  public."  The  attentidii 
of  the  American  EthnoloLjical  society  was  lil^ewise 
drawn  to  the  W(jrk  by  ^Ir  Jones,  and  the  author  was 
promptly  made  an  honorary  member  of  that  l)ody,  \\\\  li 
the  resolution  "  that  the  volumes  which  have  already 
appeared  indicate  patient  stud}^  careful  discrinnna- 
tion,  and  exhaustive  research,  and  constitute  a  nieim- 
ment  of  industry  and  merit  alike  honorable  to  their 
author  and  creditable  to  the  literary  effort  of  our 
country." 


QUOD  DEUS  BEXE  VERTAT. 


363 


Thus  each  great  man  found  in  it  that  which  was 
new  and  interesting  to  him  in  his  special  investiga- 
tions, whatever  those  might  have  been,  while  the 
attention  of  lesser  scholars  and  the  general  reader 
\\  as  attracted  by  a  variety  of  topics.  The  statesman 
found  there  the  incipient  stages  of  government;  the 
(•ki'gyman  the  early  mythologies;  the  merchant,  tiio 
agriculturist,  the  physician,  each  might  there  learn 
something  of  his  occupation  or  profession  and  insti- 
tute comparison  between  then  and  now.  It  did  not  fail 
to  touch  even  one  of  those  several  chords  which  in 
the  breast  of  the  greatest  of  American  humorists 
\  iljrate  for  the  (jaiete  de  canir  of  mankind.  Of  Mark 
Twain  and  the  Native  Races  says  Charles  Dudley 
Warner,  writing  me  the  11th  of  October  187G:  "Mr 
Ck-niens  was  just  in  and  was  in  an  unusual  state  of 
I'litliuslasm  over  the  first  volume,  especially  its  iinc 
st\  Ic.  You  may  have  a  picture  of  his  getting  up  at 
two  o'clock  this  morning  and,  encased  in  a  fur  over- 
coat, reading  it  till  davhght." 

In  another  respect  tlie  subject  was  a  most  happy 
choice  for  me.  While  it  attracted  nuich  more  atten- 
tion than  pure  history  would  have  done,  its  imperfec- 
tions of  substance,  style,  and  arrangement  were  nuich 
more  readily  overlooked.  In  ])recise  history  critics 
hiight  have  looked  for  more  philosophy,  more  sliow  of 
Iraiuiiig,  or  more  dignity  of  style.  All  I  claimed  in 
the  premises  was  faithfully  to  have  gathered  my  facts, 
to  have  arranged  them  in  the  most  natural  maimer, 
and  to  lia\e  expressed  them  in  the  clearest  language. 
Tiicse  were  its  greatest  charms  with  scholars,  and 
where  so  few  pretensions  were  made  reviewers  found 
little  room  for  censure. 


i 


1 1  i'l. 


Taus  it  was  that  I  began  to  .-see  in  my  ''vork  a  suc- 
cess exceeding  my  wildest  anticipations.  And  a  tirst 
Mifcess  in  litei'ature  under  ordinary  circumstances  is 
a  most  fortunate  occui'rence.  To  me  it  was  every- 
thing,    I  hardly  think  that  i'ailure  woukl  have  driven 


3C4 


A  LITERARY  PILGRIM. 


m 

:  «  1 

■     'I 


■    :  J 


^l-fl 


i: 


^li 


I    '^ 


needed  more  than  dofjofcd 

iindcr- 


nie  from  my  purpose;  but  I 
persistency  to  carry  me  tlirougli  herculean 
takings.  I  needed  confidence  in  my  abilities,  as- 
surance, sympathy,  and  above  all  a  fiirn  and  lofty 
enthusiasm.  I  felt  with  Lowell,  that  "solid  success 
must  be  based  on  solid  qualities  and  the  honest  cul- 
ture of  them." 

Then  again  to  accomplish  my  purpose,  which  was 
to  do  important  historical  work,  it  seemed  necessary 
for  me  to  know  wherein  I  had  erred  and  wherein  I 
had  done  well.  From  the  first  success  fell  upon  lue 
like  refreshing  showers,  cleansing  my  mind  and  my 
experiences,  and  watering  all  my  subsequent  efforts. 
To  the  stream  of  knowledi^e  which  I  had  set  flowiiiof 
through  divers  retorts  and  condensers  from  my  ac- 
cumulations to  the  clearly  printed  page,  I  might  now 
confidently  apply  all  my  powers.  As  the  king  of 
the  Golden  lliver  told  Gluck,  in  Ruskin's  beautil'ul 
story,  whoever  should  cast  into  the  stream  thico 
drops  of  holy  water,  for  him  the  waters  of  the  river 
should  turn  into  gold;  but  any  one  failing  in  the  first 
attempt  should  not  succeed  in  a  second ;  and  whoso 
cast  in  unholy  water  should  become  a  black  stone. 
Thus  sparkled  my  work  in  the  sunshine  of  its  success, 
and  the  author,  so  far  as  he  was  told,  was  not  yet  a 
black  stone. 


CIIAPTEK  XV. 

THE     TWO     GEXERALS. 

Ever  since  there  haa  been  so  great  a  demand  for  tj-pti,  there  lias  been 
much  less  lead  to  spare  for  cannou-balls. 

Bulwer. 

Came  to  the  library  the  21st  of  October  1873 
Enrique  Cerruti,  introduced  by  Phihp  A.  Roach, 
editor  and  senator,  in  the  terms  following:  "He  speaks 
Italian,  French,  Spanish,  and  English.  He  can  trans- 
late Latin.  Ho  has  been  a  consul-general  and  secretary 
of  legation.  He  is  well  acquainted  with  Spanish- 
American  affairs  and  the  leading  men  in  those  states." 

The  bearer  of  the  letter  stood  before  me,  a  man 
three  or  four  years  under  forty,  slightly  built,  of 
medium  height,  with  a  long  thin  face,  prominent 
s(|nare  forehead,  dark  protruding  eyes,  and  full  mouth 
diawn  down  at  the  corners,  long  neatly  brushed  black 
liair  and  long  thin  mustache.  His  complexion  was 
a  dark  sallow;  and  there  was  a  general  flatness  of 
I'catures  and  a  drooping  Quixotic  melancholy  pei'- 
vading  his  entire  physique.  In  his  hand  ho  held  a 
glossy  new  beaver,  matching  his  glossy  black  hair, 
lait  further  than  these  there  was  nothing  new  or 
hright  about  him,  except  his  boots,  which  were  well 
polished.  His  clothes  were  cheap  rather  than  shabby, 
and  the  crevices  of  his  coarse  linen  shirt-bosom  were 
\\ ill  iilled  with  clean  white  starch.  Eyes, mouth, and 
mulancholy  mustache,  features  and  form,  were  now 
all  on  the  qui  vive  to  know  what  destiny  would  next 
do  with  him.  He  was  a  unique  copy,  as  Dibdin  re- 
marked of  the  Dieppe  postilion. 

(369) 


SGG 


THE  TWO  GENER^VLS. 


In  answer  to  my  queries  concerning  liis  nationalitv, 
education,  and  late  occupation,  lie  inlbrnied  niu  tiiat 
he  was  a  native  of  Turin,  of  an  old  and  liigldy  ic- 
.sj)ecte(l  Italian  family,  that  at  the  age  of  fourteen  lie 
had  deserted  college  and  fled  to  Genoa,  where  lie- 
embarked  on  a  vessel  bound  for  Gibraltar.  In  tiuio 
he  found  himself  in  South  America,  where  for  fivo 
3'ears  he  was  consul-general  in  the  United  States  of 
Colombia,  which  j)Osition  he  resigned  to  rescue  liis 
friend  General  Mariano  ]\telgarejo,  then  president  of 
Bolivia,  from  his  falling  fortunes.  Appearing  in  arms, 
his  attempts  in  that  direction  failed.  Besieged  in  the 
seaport  of  Cobija  he  was  forced  to  capitulate,  and 
finally  to  depart  the  country.  After  a  tour  of  obsi  r- 
Aation  through  the  eastern  United  States  ho  pro- 
ceeded to  IMoxico,  and  after  crossing  every  one  of  the 
isthmuses  of  America,  he  came  to  California. 

Although  the  applicant,  either  in  his  person  or  in 
his  history,  did  not  impress  me  as  one  specially  adapted 
to  litc>rary  labors,  yet  I  had  long  since  learned  that 
.superficial  judgments  as  to  character  and  ability, 
particulai'ly  wlien  applied  to  wanderers  of  the  I^atiii 
ra(;e,  were  apt  to  prove  erroneous.  Further  than 
this,  while  not  specially  attractive,  there  was  sonic- 
thinof  winning  about  the  fellow,  tliourjli  I  scarerlv 
could  tell  what  it  was.  At  all  events  he  secured  the 
place  he  sought. 

Turning  him  over  to  Mr  Oak,  for  the  next  three  or 
four  months  I  scarcely  gave  him  a  thought.  He  at- 
tempted at  first  to  extract  notes  for  the  Native  Jiuccs, 
devoting  his  evenings  to  filing  Pacific  coast  journals, 
recording  the  numbers  received,  and  placing  them 
in  their  proper  places  on  the  shelves.  Ho  was  not 
specially  successful  in  abstracting  material,  or  in  any 
kind  of  purely  literary  work;  the  newspapers  he  k('pt 
in  good  order,  and  he  could  write  rapidly  from  dicta- 
tion cither  in  Spanish  or  English. 

Quickly  catching  the  drill  of  things,  he  saw  that 
first  of  all  I  desired  historical  material;  and  what  next 


ENRIQUE  CERRUTI. 


3G7 


specially  drew  ni}'-  attention  to  him  was  his  comin<jf 
to  nie  occasionally  with  sometliin;^  ho  had  secured 
from  an  unexpected  source.  When  the  time  came  for 
my  hook  to  be  noticed  by  the  [)ress  ho  used  to  write 
frequent  and  long  articles  for  the  Spanish,  French, 
and  Italian  journals  in  San  Francisco,  New  York, 
^Lexico,  France,  Sjtain,  and  Italy.  I  know  of  no  in- 
stance where  one  (»f  his  many  artieles  of  that  kind 
was  declined.  He  had  a  way  of  liis  own  of  niakin<jj 
ciHtors  do  about  as  he  desired  in  this  respect. 

Gradually  I  became  interested  in  tliis  man,  and  I 
saw  him  interest  himself  more  and  more  in  my  l)ehalf; 
and  witli  time  this  interest  dee])ened  into  regai'd,  until 
iinally  I  became  strongly  attached  to  him.  This  at- 
tiu'hment  was  based  on  his  inherent  honesty,  devotion, 
and  kindness  of  heart,  though  on  the  suri'ace  he  was 
l)iil)ble  and  bondjast.  Within  was  the  strictest  integ- 
lity,  and  that  loyalty  which  makes  one  litei-ally  die 
foi'  one's  friend;  without  was  fiction,  hyperbole,  and 
enijiiricism. 

Ho  was  a  natural  adept  in  certain  subtleties  which, 
liad  liis  eye  been  evil,  would  have  made  him  a  iirst-class 
villain;  but  with  all  his  innocent  artifices,  and  the 
rare  skill  and  delicate  touch  employed  in  playing  upon 
human  weaknesses,  he  was  on  the  whole  a  pure-minded 
man.  I  used  to  fancy  I  despised  flattery,  but  I  con- 
fess I  enjoyed  not  more  Xemos'  caustic  criticisms  than 
Corruti's  oily  uni  tions,  which  were  laid  on  so  grace- 
fully, so  tenderly,  and  withal  so  liberally,  and  witli  the 
air  of  one  to  whom  it  made  little  difForence  whether 
you  believed  him  in  earnest  or  not;  for  he  well  knew 
that  I  understood  him  thorougldy,  and  accepted  his 
ciiinpliments  at  their  value.  He  was  the  oidy  man 
whose  tlunimery,  even  in  homa}opathic  doses,  did  not 
sicken  me.  There  was  something  so  princely  in  his 
hlandiloquencc  that  I  could  not  l)ut  forgive  him  as 
fast  as  it  was  uttered.  He  was  not  in  the  least  a 
ilunky;  there  was  no  fawning  about  him ;  ho  was  a  man 
and  a  gentleman,  a  high  and   honorable  personage, 


l"f 


mm 


363 


THE  TWO  GENERALS. 


with  possibly  an  equal  in  America,  but  not  a  superior, 
tiiat  is  to  say,  taken  at  his  own  estimation. 

Erect  in  his  carriage,  with  chin  up  and  glossy  hat 
thrown  well  back  on  the  head,  his  demeanor  was  oitoii 
in  stranufo  contradiction  to  his  somewhat  withered 
appearance.  In  his  movements  he  was  as  lithe  and 
active  as  a  cat,  and  of  as  tireless  endurance.  He  was 
a  very  early  riser,  and  often  had  a  half  doy's  worlc 
done  before  others  were  up.  I  do  not  know  that  I 
ever  heard  him  complain  of  being  fatigued. 


Montaigne's  mistake  is  great  when  he  exclaims, 
*'IIow  much  less  sociable  is  false  speaking  than 
silence!"  To  Cerruti,  lying  was  the  greatest  luxury. 
Neither  wealth,  station,  nor  learning  could  hiwo. 
yielded  him  half  the  enjoyment.  With  Socrates,  lie 
seemed  to  hold  that  the  mendacious  man  of  all  others 
is  capable  and  wise,  and  if  a  man  cannot  tell  a  lie  upon 
occasion  he  displays  glaring  weakness. 

He  did  not  recpiire,  like  Marryatt,  duty  to  country 
to  warrant  the  practice.  A  half  truth  was  worse 
than  the  whole  truth.  Falsehood  spun  itself  of  its 
own  volition  in  his  whirling  brain,  and  he  amused 
himself  by  flinging  off  the  fabric  from  his  tongue. 
It  was  habit  and  amusement;  to  have  been  forced 
always  to  speak  the  truth  would  have  been  to  stop  the 
play  of  the  healthful  vital  organism.  With  Maxinins 
Tyrius  he  seemed  to  hold  that  "a  lie  is  often  profitable 
and  advantageous  to  men,  and  truth  hurtful." 

Lying  with  him  was  a  fine  art.  He  used  often  to 
talk  to  me  as  long  as  I  would  listen,  while  knowini,^ 
that  I  regarded  every  word  he  uttered  as  false.  Ihit 
he  took  care  to  make  it  palatable.  If  one  liked  one's 
praise  thickly  spread,  he  enjoyed  nothing  so  much 
as  giving  a  friend  his  fill  of  it.  And  no  one  was 
quicker  than  he  to  detect  the  instant  his  sweetness 
nauseated.  Praise  is  always  acceptable  if  ministered 
w'ith  skill;  but  as  Horace  says  of  Cajsar,  "Stroke  him 
with  an  awkward  hand  and  he  kicks." 


LYINC   \S  A  FINE  ART. 


3C9 


Every  man's  face  was  to  Ccrruti  a  barometer,  iudi- 
catiii;^  the  weather  of  the  mind,  and  as  with  swiftly 
.selected  words  lu;  played  his  variations  upon  the  ex- 
pectations, the  passions,  or  aspirations  of  his  listener, 
lie  read  it  with  ease,  and  by  the  weight  or  pressure  of 
the  soul-inspired  atmosphere  there  indicated  he  regu- 
lated each  succeeding  sentence  of  his  speech.  Herein 
lay  a  strange  power  which  he  possessed  over  many 
men.  His  mind  was  no  less  elastic  than  it  was  active. 
Acute  observation  was  a  habit  with  him. 

And  yet  in  liis  lying,  as  in  everything  else  about 
liini,  ho  was  harndess.  Ho  did  not  intend  to  deceive. 
He  did  not  expect  his  lies  to  be  believed.  Exagger- 
ation came  to  him  so  naturally  that  he  was  i'or  the 
most  part  unconscious  of  it,  and  nothing  surprised  or 
shocked  him  more  than  for  a  friend  to  construe  his 
speech  literally  and  so  act  upon  it. 

He  did  not  lie  for  gain;  indeed,  should  so  unpala- 
table a  thing  as  truth  ever  force  his  lips  you  might 
siis|)ect  something  of  personal  benefit  at  the  bottom 
of  it.  In  his  economy  of  deceit  he  would  not  waste 
ii  good  falsehood  upon  himself.  Reversing  Byron's 
statement,  the  truth  with  him  was  a  lie  in  masquerade. 
He  was  one  of  those  of  whom  Pascal  says:  "Quoique 
les  personnes  n'aient  point  d'interet  li,  ce  qu'elles  disent, 
il  nc  f'lut  pas  conclure  de  lit  absolumont  qu'elles  no 
meiitent  point,  car  il  y  a  des  gens  qui  mentent  siniple- 
ment  pour  mcntir." 

ISlieridan  admitted  that  he  never  hesitated  to  lie  to 
fiorvc  a  friend;  and  that  his  conscience  was  troubled 
iibout  it  oidy  when  he  was  discovered.  Cerruti  was  far 
liefore  Sheridan  in  this  respect,  that  he  was  troubled 
in  mind  about  his  lies  only  when  they  were  taken  for 
liutli.  And  yet  blood  must  flow  if  ever  the  words 
'you  lie'  w^ere  spoken. 

Some  tongues  are  so  long  that  the  lightest  breeze 
of  hrain  will  wag  them;  some  brains  so  light,  and  so 
full  of  light  conceits,  yet  so  heavily  resting  on  the 
consciousness,  that,  like  the    ancient  mariner,  a  woful 

Lit.  Ind.    21 


. .  ■  i>  ■ 

Hi 
m 


'fi 


370 


THE  TWO  GENERALS. 


.igony  wrenches  tlio  possessor  until  his  tale  is  told. 
Ccrruti  finally  came  to  be  regarded  a  privileged  char- 
acter among  thohe  that  know  him,  liberty  being  givtn 
him  to  talk  as  he  ])leascd,  his  aberrations  of  spcrdi 
being  charged  to  his  genius  and  not  to  deliberate  in- 
tention. Solon  counterfeited  madness  that  he  miglit 
recite  verses  on  Salamis  in  the  market-j)lace,  to  sjuak 
which  otherwise  by  law  was  death;  Cerruti's  mad- 
ness was  constitutional. 


He  ate,  drank,  smoked,  and  slept:  yet  as  to  tlio 
manner  ho  was  quite  indifferent.  He  cared  much 
more  for  his  personal  appearance,  and  would  wear  as 
good  clothes  as  lie  could  get;  that  is,  they  must  look 
])assably  well,  though  as  to  quality  he  was  not  par- 
ticular. To  sleep  amongst  old  lumber  in  a  garret,  and 
coolly  assert  he  was  stopping  at  the  Grand  Hotel; 
to  dine  on  three  bits,  and  then  talk  of  seven  thousand 
dollar  bills  of  exchange  which  he  carried  in  his  })Ocktt; 
to  parade  his  illustrious  connections,  his  daring  deeds 
in  battle  or  on  the  ocean,  the  offices  he  had  held,  the 
influence  he  had  wielded,  and  the  crushing  effect  at  all 
times  of  his  enkindled  wrath — these  were  amom,'  his 
constant  themes. 

He  would  drink  or  not,  as  it  happened;  but  I  never 
saAv  him  drunk.  Cigars,  five  for  a  quarter,  seemed  to 
satisfy  him  as  well  as  the  purest  Habana  at  twenty- 
five  cents  each.  A  little  sleep  was  acceptable,  if  C(ni- 
venient;  if  not,  it  was  no  matter. 

He  liked  to  be  called  general,  even  though  he  had 
been  but  consul-general,  even  though  he  had  been  but 
consul,  even  though  he  had  slept  but  a  fortnight  in  a 
consulate.  To  ears  so  attuned  there  is  something 
pleasing  in  high-sounding  titles,  it  making  little  dif- 
ference whether  the  mark  of  distinction  be  rightfully 
employed  or  not. 

General  Cerruti's  ears  were  so  attuned.  He  know 
that  everybody  knew  there  was  no  ground  for  apply- 
ing such  a  title  to  him,  and  yet  it  pleased  him.    At 


FURTHER  ANALYSIS  OF  CHARACTER. 


371 


times  he  used  greatly  to  enjoy  boasting  his  present 
jioverty,  flaunting  it  in  most  eons[)i('nous  colors,  coni- 
|iaiiiig  what  lie  was  with  what  lie  had  been,  well 
knowing  that  everybody  knew  he  never  had  l>een 
anything  in  particular.  He  used  to  carry  a  galvan- 
ized watch,  a  largo  double-cased  yellow  steni-windei', 
which  ho  would  sport  ostentatiously  and  then  boast 
that  it  was  bogus. 

Jle  well  knew  that  he  was  not  a  great  man,  and 
never  by  any  possibility  could  be  regarded  as  such, 
though  like  Parrhasius  he  dubbed  himself  king  of  his 
ciaft,  and  assumed  the  golden  crown  and  purple  robe 
of  royalty;  and  yet  above  all  things  earthly  he  adored 
the  semblance  of  greatness,  and  arrayed  himself  so  far 
as  he  was  able  in  its  tattered  paraphernalia.  Of  his 
hrave  deeds  while  acting  the  part  of  revolutionist  in 
southern  America  he  was  as  proud  as  if  ho  had  fought 
at  Marathon  or  Waterloo.  He  was  an  air-plant,  rooted 
to  no  spot  on  earth,  without  fixedness  of  pur})ose  suf- 
ficient to  become  even  parasitic.  He  would  not  admit 
himself  over  to  have  been  in  the  wrong,  but  the  re- 
sults of  his  follies  and  mistakes  he  charged  to  a  cruel 
and  relentless  fate.  Forever  the  world  turned  to  him 
its  shady  side. 

Notwithstanding  his  aggressive  disposition  he  was 
extremely  sensitive.  His  pride  was  supreme,  exposing 
him  to  tortures  from  every  defamatory  wind.  Touch 
him  in  certain  quarters,  call  in  question  his  antece- 
dents, criticise  his  past  life,  his  family  connections,  his 
jiresent  conduct, and  you  aroused  him  almost  to  frenzy. 
Yet  he  was  as  quickly  brought  from  the  storm  into 
calm  waters.  Often  w'ith  one  kind  word  I  have  cooled 
ill  him  a  tempest  which  had  been  raging  perhaps  for 
(lays.  Indeed,  here  as  everywhere  in  life,  clouds  were 
not  dispelled  by  lightning  and  the  thunderbolt,  nor  by 
hurling  at  them  other  clouds,  but  by  permeating  them 
with  soft  sunshine. 

Under  a  brusque  demeanor,  and  a  gasconade  ob- 
noxious to  some,  he  veiled  an  humble,  kind,  and  loving 


879 


TTIE  TWO  OENRRALS. 


heart.  In  liis  afFcctions  ho  disi)layc'(l  a  womanly  tcn- 
(lernosa,  and  was  exc'co(Unj^ly  careful  and  considerate 
witli  the  feelinii^a  of  lii.s  friends.  As  Loij^li  Hunt  said 
of  Charles  Lanil),  he  was  a  coinpouiid  of  the  Jew,  tlie 
gentleman,  and  the  angc). 

At  first  the  yoimg  men  in  the  library  used  to 
laugh  at  him;  but  1  pointed  to  the  signal  result-^ 
which  he  was  achieving,  and  even  should  he  prove  in 
the  end  knave  or  fool,  success  was  always  a  convinc- 
ing argument.  A  liabit  of  talking  loud  and  i;t"i"dilo- 
quently,  especially  among  strangers,  made  Oak  feaii'ul 
that  Cerruti,  while  making  an  ass  of  himself,  would 
bring  us  all  into  ridicule  among  sensible  men.  Ihit. 
said  I,  no  sensible  man  brings  us  the  material  that 
he  bi'ings.  Indeed,  to  this  quality  of  nervous  ecstasy 
or  semi-madness  the  world  owes  much,  onvcs  its 
Platos,  its  Newtons,  and  its  Shakespeares ;  to  the 
madness  of  eccentric  times  civilization  owes  its  lonu'est 
strides. 

Though  keen-scented  and  bold  in  his  search  after 
historical  knowledge,  he  was  neither  impertinent  nor 
vulgar.  Curiosity  is  the  mainspring  of  all  our  intel- 
lectualities, of  all  our  civilities;  bi  there  is  a  curiosity 
which  tends  to  ignorance,  which  finds  its  highest 
qualification  in  gossip  and  coarse  personalities.  Tliero 
is  a  vulgar  and  debasing  curiosity,  and  there  is  an 
elevating  and  improving  curiosity.  To  pry  into  the 
commonplace  affairs  of  commonplace  men  and  women 
is  a  mean  and  morbid  curiosity;  to  study  for  pur])osos 
of  emulation  and  improvement  the  exalted  charac- 
ters of  the  great  and  good  is  a  noble  curiosity. 

Of  all  studies,  the  analysis  of  human  nature  is  to 
me  the  most  deeply  interesting.  And  of  all  such  in- 
vestigations I  find  none  more  prolific  than  the  anato- 
mizing of  the  characters  connected  with  these  historic 
cal  efforts.  Every  man  of  them  represents  one  of  a 
hundred;  one  success  to  ninety-nine  failures.    It  would 


CHIEF  OF  HISTORY- HUNTERS. 


373 


soc'in,  then,  that  iti  this  inAd  certain  (jualltiL's  arc 
iv(|iiisitc  to  success;  yet  to  attciii[)t  in  every  instance 
111  (Icscrihe  those  essential  (^uaHties  would  involve  the 
w  lit  in^"  of  a  volume. 

Take,  t'or  exani))le,  this  same  warm-hearted  <,'enial 
liiciid  Cerruti.  To  see  him  in  his  <juick,  nervous 
(•(linings  and  going.s;  to  hear  him  rattling  away  in  his 
nil'-liand,  free,  and  tearless  manner,  on  one  suhject  and 
aiintlier,  appari^ntly  at  random,  ap[»arently  careless 
ai'd  indillerent  as  to  the  correctness  of  his  statements, 
;ij)|)arently  as  etterveseent  in  mental  ([ualities  as  a 
liottle  of  cliani[)agne,  one  not  knowing  him  migliL 
taktj  liim  as  the  last  pei'son  to  j)r(^ve  a  valuahle  as- 
sistant in  precise  historic  investigation.  Vet  there 
woi'e  few  men  truer,  more  conscientious,  or  ui'i  i 
cllicient  in  their  way. 

He  did  what  ii"  wue  else  connected  with  the  work 
could  do,  what  but  I'or  him  never  would  have  l)e«>)i 
ddiie.  Jle  liad  not  the  sco[)e  and  comprehensiveness, 
or  the  literai-y  culture,  or  the  gi'aceful  style,  or  steady 
apphcation,  or  erudition  to  achieve  for  himself,  liut 
lie  had  what  all  of  them  together  could  not  commaml, 
]iii\\ir  over  the  minds  of  men,  consununate  skill  in 
touching  the  springs  of  human  action  and  in  winning 
the  w-dvy  to  his  pur})ose. 

I  do  not  mean  to  sav  that  he  could  not  write,  and 
ni  Ihe  Ijatin  languagea  write  eloquently;  the  many 
iiiaimscript  volumes  of  history  and  narrative  which 
ha\e  emanated  from  his  pen  under  the  dictation  of 
I'luinent  Californians  and  others  pi'ove  the  conti-ary. 
His  chief  talent,  however,  lay  in  awakening  an  inter- 
est in  my  hdjurs. 

l)Ut  how  was  this  necessary?  What  need  of  spec-ial 
('Units  to  make  proselytes  to  a  cause  so  ])alpahly  im- 
jxrtant;  a  cause  neither  asking  nor  acce])ting  subsidy 
iini'  pecuniai-y  aid  from  state,  society,  or  inilividual;  a 
cause  absolutely  jirivate  and  inde})endent,  and  having 
Hi  I  (itlier  object  in  view  than  pure  investigation  and 
an  uiii)iassed  recording  of  the  truth?     Surely,  oi'o 


11 


374 


THE  TWO  GENERALS. 


I  :1| 


would  think,  such  aii  enterprise  would  not  require  an 
effort  to  make  n»cu  bi'lieve  in  it. 

Nevertheless  it  did.  There  were  those,  mcrcenarv 
minds,  who  could  see  nothing  but  money  in  it,  who 
havinjjf  documents  or  knowledjjfe  of  historical  events 
would  not  part  with  their  information  but  fur  a  ])rice. 
'Ahl'  said  they,  'this  man  knows  what  he  is  about. 
He  is  not  fool  enough  to  spend  time  and  money  with- 
out prospective  return.  He  is  a  book  man,  and  all 
this  is  but  a  dodge  to  make  at  once  money  and  re])u- 
tation.  No  man  in  this  country  does  something  tor 
n  thing.  No  man  pours  out  his  money  and  worlds 
like  a  slave  except  in  the  expectation  that  it  will 
come  back  to  him  with  interest.  He  may  say  he  is 
not  working  for  monc}',  but  we  do  not  believe  it.' 
Others,  altliouii'h  their  iudoinent  told  them  that  l»v 
no  possibility  could  the  outlay  be  renmnerative,  and 
that  my  experience  in  book-publishing  was  such  that 
1  could  not  l)ut  know  it,  yet,  in  view  of  the  interest  I 
took  in  the  svd)ject,  and  the  money  I  was  spending,  in 
every  direction,  in  the  accumulation  of  material,  they 
thought  I  might  [)erha[)s  be  induced  to  pay  them  tor 
their  information  rather  than  do  without  it. 

No  man  of  conunon-scnse  or  of  common  patriotism 
thought  or  talked  thus;  but  I  had  to  do  with  hidivid- 
uals  })ossessed  of  neitlier  sense  nor  patriotism,  conunoii 
(»r  uncommon.  I  had  to  do  with  men  in  whose  cvls 
a  dollar  was  so  large  that  they  could  not  see  beyond 
it;  in  whose  eyes  money  was  not  alone  the  chief  gooil, 
but  the  only  good;  whose  dim  intelligence  ran  ni 
channels  so  muddy  that  no  sunlight  could  ])en(^traii! 
them.  Thank  God  such  men  were  few  in  Caliibnii.i. 
And  let  their  names  die;  let  them  bespatter  no  pag<' 
of  mine,  nor  Uiay  my  [)en  ever  damn  such  a  one  to 
innnortality. 

Another  class,  a  largo  and  highly  respectable  one. 
was  composed  of  men  wlio  for  a  quarter  of  a  ceiitni\ 
had  been  impiortuned  time  and  again  by  multitudes  ol 
[)etty  scribblers,  newspaper  interviewers,  and   q'KU-^i 


HOLDERS  OF  MATERIAL. 


373 


historians,  for  items  of  their  early  experience,  until 
tlicy  tired  of  it.  So  tliat  when  a  new  applicant  for 
iiilonnation  appeoxed  they  were  naturally  and  justly 
Mispicious;  but  when  they  came  to  know  the  character 
and  quality  of  the  work  proposed,  and  were  satisfied 
that  it  would  be  fairly  and  thoroughly  done,  they  were 
icady  A\ith  all  their  powers  and  possessions  to  assist 
the  undertaking. 

In  some  instances,  however,  it  required  diplomacy 
of  a  no  mean  order  to  convince  men  that  there  was 
ii(»  liidden  or  ulterior  object  in  thus  gathering  and  re- 
cording their  own  deeds  and  the  deeds  of  their  ances- 
toi's.  The  Hispano-Californians  particularly,  many 
of  them,  had  been  so  abused,  so  swindled,  so  I'obbed 
hy  their  pretended  friends,  by  unprincipled  Yankee 
lawyers  and  scheming  adventurers,  that  they  did  not 
know  whom  to  trust,  and  were  suspicious  of  everybody. 
Often  liad  letters  and  other  papers  been  taken  from 
their  j)ossession  and  used  against  them  in  court  t<> 
jiioxc  the  title  to  their  lands  dei'cctive,  or  for  otlun- 
(Ltrimental  purpose.  Then  there  were  individual  and 
local  jealousies  to  be  condjated.  One  feared  undue 
(insure  of  himself  and  undue  praise  of  his  enemy  ;  ono 
faniilj'  feared  that  too  much  prominence  would  be 
^ivou  another  family.  Then  theie  were  lival  authors, 
who  had  collected  little  batches  of  material  with  a 
x'u'W  of  Avriting  the  history  of  California  themselves. 
I  ^^uppose  there  were  no  less  than  ufty  brains  which 
liad  heen  tenanted  by  the  dim  intention  of  some  day 
Wilting  the  history  of  California.  All  these  had  to 
i»r  woa  over  and  be  made  to  see  the  great  advantagt; 
In  the  present  and  to  future  generations  of  having  all 
these  scattered  chapters  of  liistory  brought  into  one 
grand  whole. 

To  accomplish  somovdiat  of  this  was  the  wor-k  of 
Ociii  lal  Cerruti.  Chameleon-like  he  would  shift  his 
"I  ill  I  ions  according  to  the  company,  and  ada[)t  his 
'"iii[ilex  nature  to  the  colors  vi'  time  and  place;  with 
the  serious  he  could  be  grave,  with  the  young  merry. 


IJ  '■  s 


376 


THE  TWO  GENERALS. 


and  Avith  the  profligate  free.  With  equal  grace  he 
could  simulate  virtue  or  wink  at  vice.  Hence,  like 
Catiline  planning  his  conspiracy,  he  made  hiinselt'  a 
favorite  equally  with  men  the  best  and  the  basest. 

Another  general:  though  likewise  of  the  Latin 
race,  with  all  its  stately  misdirection,  yet  broadoi'  in 
intellect,  of  deeper  endowment,  and  gentler  sagacity. 
Among  the  Hispano-Californians  Mariano  do  (Ina- 
dalupe  Vallcjo  deservedly  stands  first.  Born  at  Mow- 
tercy  the  7th  of  July  1808,  of  prominent  Castiliiiu 
parentage,  twenty-one  years  were  spent  in  religious, 
civil,  and  military  training;  after  which  he  took  his 
position  at  San  Francisco  as  comandante  of  the  pi-c- 
sidio,  collector,  and  alcalde.  In  1835  he  establislicd 
the  first  ayuntamiento,  or  town  council,  at  Yoiba 
Buena  cove,  where  was  begun  the  metropolis  of  San 
Francisco;  the  same  year  he  colonized  Sonoma,  situ- 
ated at  the  northern  extremity  of  San  Francisco  bay. 
which  ever  after  was  his  home. 

While  Vallcjo  was  general,  his  nophcw  Alvarado 
was  governor.  In  their  early  education  and  subso- 
qucnt  studios,  for  citizens  of  so  isolated  a  countiy  as 
California  then  was,  these  two  hijoi^  del  ]xi)'s  ciijoNcd 
unusual  advantarjes.  To  boffin  with,  their  minds  were 
far  above  the  average  of  those  of  any  country.  Alva- 
rado might  have  taken  his  place  beside  eminent  states- 
men in  a  world's  congress;  and  as  for  literary  ability, 
one  has  but  to  peruse  their  histories  respectively,  to  l)o 
impressed  with  their  mental  scope  and  charm  of  .style. 

As  a  mark  of  his  intellectual  tastes  and  practical 
wisdom,  while  yet  quite  young,  Vallejo  gatheri'd  l 
library  of  no  mean  pretensions,  consisting  not  alone 
of  reli<2fious  books,  which  were  the  oidy  kind  at  that 
time  regfarded  with  any  de<]free  of  favor  by  the  elei^v 
of  California,  but  liberally  sprinkled  with  w^oj'ks  ^^w 
general  knowledge,  history,  science,  jurlsprudenee. 
and  state-craft.  These  he  kept  under  lock,  admitting 
none  to  his  rich  feast  save  his  ne[)hcw  Alvarado. 


MARIAXO  DE  GUADALUPE  VALLEJO. 


377 


Thus  were  tlieso  two  young  men,  destined  to  exercise 
so  marked  an  iniluenee  upon  the  impressible  society 
of  California,  blest  beyond  parallel  by  this  admis- 
sion into  the  great  school  of  free  and  interchangeable 

thought. 

General  Vallejo  was  a  man  of  fine  physique,  rather 
above  medium  height,  portly  and  straight  as  an  airow, 
with  a  large  round  head,  high  forehead,  half-closed 
(■\  (?s,  thin  black  hair,  and  side-whiskers.  Every  mo- 
tion betrayed  the  military  man  and  the  gentleman. 
His  face  wore  usually  a  contented  and  often  jovial 
expression,  but  the  frequent  short  quick  sigh  told  of 
unsatisfied  longings,  of  vain  regrets  and  lacerated  am- 
bitions. 

And  no  wonder.  For  within  the  period  of  his 
nihilhood  he  had  seen  California  emerge  from  a  quiet 
wilderness  and  become  the  haunt  of  embroiling  civili- 
zation. He  had  seen  arise  from  the  bleak  and  shifting 
sand-dunes  of  Yerba  Buona  cove  a  mighty  metrop- 
olis, the  half  of  which  he  might  have  owned  as  easily 
as  to  write  his  name,  but  of  which  there  was  not  a 
single  foot  he  could  now  call  his  own,  and  where  he 
wandered  well  nigh  a  stranger;  he  had  seen  the  grace- 
I'ul  Iiills  and  sweet  valleys  of  his  native  lanj.  pass  from 
the  gentle  rule  of  brothers  and  friends  into  the  hands  of 
foreigners,  under  whose  harsh  domination  the  sound 
of  liis  native  tongue  had  died  away  liice  angels'  nmsic. 

Look  in  upon  him  at  Sonoma,  at  any  time  from 
iivo  to  ten  years  after  his  settling  there,  and  for  a 
native  Californian  you  find  a  prince,  one  who  occupies, 
connnands,  and  lives  in  rustic  splendor.  His  house,  a 
long  two-story  adobe,  with  wing  and  out-houses,  was 
l>iol)al)ly  the  finest  in  California.  Besides  his  dusky 
retainers,  who  were  swept  away  by  diseases  brought 
upon  them  by  the  white  man,  he  had  always  on  tlu; 
]ir('niises  at  his  command  a  company  of  soldiei-s,  and 
s<i'\ants  without  number.  There  he  liad  his  library, 
and  there  he   WTote  a  history  of  California,  covering 


378 


TUE  TWO  GENERALS. 


il 


some  seven  or  eight  liundicd  manuscript  pages;  hui, 
alas  1  liouse,  history,  books,  and  a  large  portion  of  the 
original  documents  whicli  he  and  his  lather  and  lii.s 
grandfather  had  accumulated  and  preserved,  wcie 
almost  in  a  moment  swept  away  by  fire.  This  was  a 
groat  loss;  but  few  then  or  subsequently  knew  any- 
thing of  the  papers  or  the  history. 

He  was  stately  and  stiff  in  those  days,  for  he  wns 
the  first  power  in  northern  California;  to  meet  an 
equal  he  nmst  travel  many  leagues;  afterward  ho 
became  less  pretentious.  The  United  States  treatc'd 
him  badly,  and  the  state  treated  him  badly,  or  rather 
sharpers,  citizens  of  the  commonwealth,  and  in  the 
name  oi'  the  state  and  of  the  United  States,  first 
taking  from  him  his  lands,  and  then  failing  to  kct'p 
faith  with  him  in  placing  the  state  capital  at  Valkjo, 
as  they  had  agreed. 

Often  have  I  regarded  thee  in  nmte  and  awe- 
inspired  astonishment,  oli  thou  man  of  lost  oppor- 
tunities, that  with  all  thy  crushed  ambitions,  thy 
subverted  patrimony,  and  thy  metamorphosed  Hie, 
thou  shouldst  still  be  so  serenely  happy!  Lord  of  all 
this  inunonscly  wealthy  peninsula  of  San  Francisco; 
loi'd  of  all  the  vast  domain  toward  the  illimitable  north, 
thou  gavest  to  thy  servants  leagues  of  unencumbei'cil 
land  and  kept  scarcely  enough  in  which  to  bury  tin  - 
self! 

Prodigal  to  a  fault  were  almost  all  this  race  of 
Hispano-Californians;  charging  the  results  of  thn'r 
improvidence  meanwhiL'  upon  those  who  had  winked 
at  their  ruin.  Yet  this  Timon  of  Sonoma  was  never 
Llisanthropos,  hating  mankind. 

When  gold  was  discovered ,  three  thousand  tamed 
natives  answered  to  his  call;  in  the  hall  of  his  dwell- 
ing at  Sonoma,  soon  after,  were  stacked  jars  of  the 
] precious  metal,  as  though  it  had  been  flour  or  beans. 
When  one  had  leagues  of  land  and  tons  of  gold;  wlieii 
lands  were  given  away,  not  sold  and  bought,  and  gold 


LOST  OPPORTUXITIES. 


379 


came  pomiiig  in  for  cattle  and  products  wliicli  liad 
liithcrto  been  regarded  of  scarcely  value  enough  to 
lay  for  the  computation;  when,  for  aught  any  one 
<iicw,  the  Sierra  was  half  gold,  and  gold  bought 
liKasLire  and  adulation,  and  men  liked  adulation  and 
pleasure,  what  was  to  stay  the  lavish  hand?  For 
Imlding  the  general's  horse  the  boy  was  flung  a 
(liuljloon;  for  shaving  the  general  the  barber  was 
i;ivun  an  ounce  and  no  change  required;  at  places  of 
nitortainraent  and  amusement,  at  the  festive  board, 
lli(>  club,  the  gathering,  ounces  were  as  coppers  to 
the  New  Euglander,  or  as  quarters  to  the  later  Cali- 
ii'i'iiian. 

Thus  these  most  magnificent  of  opportunities  were 
lust;  for  native  retainers  could  not  breathe  the  blasted 
ail'  of  civili'^ation,  nor  was  the  Sierra  ])uilt  of  sohd 


gold. 


A  cloud  would  sometimes  pass  across  his  sunny 
llatures  in  speaking  of  these  things,  and  in  moments 
<M*  special  relaxation  I  have  seen  a  tear  in  the  bright 
I'lack  eye;  but  like  a  child  with  its  toy  the  merry- 
ma  king  of  the  hour  was  never  for  more  tlum  a 
iiKiiiient  marred  by  melancholy  regrets. 

Singular,  indeed,  and  well  nigh  supernatural  must 
]ia\o  been  the  sensations  which  crept  over  the  yet 
active  and  vi<»'orous  old  G;entleman  as  he  wandered 
amidst  the  scenes  of  his  younger  days.  Never  saw 
"lie  generation  such  change;  never  saw  one  man  such 
tiansformation.  Among  them  he  walked  like  one 
ivtunied  from  centuries  of  journeying. 

"  I  love  to  go  to  Monterey,"  the  old  general  used 
t(i  sa}'  to  me.  "for  there  I  may  yet  find  a  little  of 
till'  dear  and  aliviost  obliterated  past.  There  is  yet  the 
'Kt  an  that  smiles  to  me  as  I  approach,  and  venerable 
1h  aided  oaks,  to  which  I  raise  my  hat  as  I  pass  under 
tiicin;  and  there  are  streets  still  familiar,  and  houses 
Hill  yet  torn  down,  and  streams  and  landscapes  which 
I  may  yet  recognize  as  part  of  my  former  belongings. 
lliil  after  all  these  are  only  the  unfabricated  grave- 


I 


380 


THE  TWO  GENERALS. 


^car  that  tell  mc  I  am  not  yet  dead."  However,  if 
his  was  the  loss  somebody's  must  have  been  the  gain. 
As  one  pertinently  remarJcs:  "  Nations  grow  in  gi\Mt- 
ncss  only  tlirough  the  sacrilice,  the  immolation  of  the 
individual." 

In  his  family  and  among  his  friends  he  was  an  ex- 
ceeding! v  hind -hearted  man.  Before  the  straii-nr, 
particularl}'  before  the  importunate  if  not  impudent 
Yankee  stranger,  he  drew  close  round  him  tlie  rolns 
of  his  dignitv.  In  all  the  common  courtesies  of  lii'' 
he  was  punctilious,  even  for  a  Spaniard;  neither  wns 
his  politeness  affected,  but  it  sprang  from  true  gt-n- 
tility  of  heart.  It  was  his  nature  when  in  the  society 
of  tlioso  he  loved  and  respected  to  prefer  them  t' 
himself;  it  was  when  he  came  in  contact  with  tlie 
world  that  all  the  lofty  pride  of  his  Castilian  ancestry 
came  to  the  surface. 

Indeed,  the  whole  current  of  his  nature  ran  deeji; 
his  life  was  not  the  dashing  torrent,  but  the  still 
silent  flow  of  the  mighty  river. 

In  his  younger  days  he  was  a  model  of  chivalry,  ;i 
true  Amadis  of  Gaul;  and  when  age  had  stiffened  liis 
joints  s(^mewhat,  and  had  thickened  the  llesli  upon 
his  graceful  limbs,  he  lost  none  of  his  gallantry,  and 
\vas  as  ready  with  his  poetry  as  with  his  philosophy. 
Indeed,  he  wrote  verses  with  no  common  degree  it' 
talent,  and  there  are  many  parts  of  his  history  which 
might  better  be  called  poetry  than  prose.  And  n  >w 
he  comes  upon  us  like  a  courtier  of  Philip  II., 
awakened  from  a  century-sleep  upon  a  desert  island. 

His  philosophy  was  of  the  Pythagorean  type;  h^' 
was  not  alwaj^s  to  tell  all  that  he  knew,  and  in  deter- 
mining whom  to  trust  he  was  to  be  governed  fjreatlv 
by  his  physiognomical  discernment.  Ho  liked  or  dis- 
liked a  person  usually  upon  sight  or  instinct.  He  was 
a  close  and  shrewd  observer,  and  was  usually  coirect 
in  his  estimates  of  human  character.  His  wisdoni, 
though  simple  and  ftmtastic,  was  deep.  He  respeeted 
the  forms  of  relia'ion  from  ancient  association  and 


CHARACTER  OF  VALLEJO. 


381 


liabit  ratlior  than  from  stronij  internal  convictions 
as  to  their  efficacy.  There  was  not  the  sli,;2;]itest 
asceticism  in  his  piety;  his  was  far  too  intelHf^ent 
a  inind  to  he  under  the  curse  of  bigotry.  AVithout 
l)eing  what  might  be  termed  a  dreamer  in  philosophic 
matters,  he  possessed  in  a  happy  degree  the  faculty 
111'  ])ractical  abstraction;  there  was  to  him  liere  in  the 
ll(•f^h  a  sphere  of  thought  other  than  that  answering 
to  the  demands  of  the  body  for  food  and  covering,  a 
sphere  which  to  him  wdio  might  enter  it  was  heaven's 
liarmony  hall.  Thither  one  might  sometimes  escape 
and  find  rest  from  every-day  solicitudes. 

In  imperial  Rome,  had  ho  not  been  born  Octavius, 
he  would  have  been  ^Nlfcccnas,  C?esar's  chief  adviser, 
the  friend  of  Virgil  and  Horace,  politician,  and  j)atron 
of  art  and  literature,  dilettante  and  voluptuary.  In 
Ills  later  life  General  Vallejo  enjo3'ed  that  state  of 
calm  and  cheerful  resis^nation  which  briuL^s  the 
strongest  endurance. 

Altogether  brave  and  bluff  as  a  soldier,  stern  and 
uncompromising  as  a  man  of  the  world,  I  have  seen 
liiui  in  his  softer  moods  as  sensitive  and  as  sentimental 
as  a  ]\Iadame  de  Stael.  He  was  in  every  respect  a 
sincere  man.  To  his  honesty,  but  not  to  his  discretion, 
a  friend  mii^ht  trust  his  fortune  and  his  life.  lie 
never  would  betray,  but  he  might  easily  be  betrayed. 
E\  er  ready  to  help  a  friend,  he  expected  his  friend  to 
hcl[)  him. 

In  common  with  most  of  his  countrymen,  his  pro- 
ji'cts  and  his  enthusiasms  swayed  violently  betwct-n 
extremes.  He  was  too  apt  to  be  cari'ied  away  b}' 
whatever  was  uppermost  in  his  mind.  Not  that  his 
character  lacked  ballast,  or  that  he  was  incapable  of 
close  calculation  or  clear  discrimination;  but  never 
having  been  accustomed  to  the  rigid  self-restriction 
which  comes  from  a  life  of  plodding  ap[)licati()n,  lie 
v.as  perhaps  too  much  under  the  influence  of  that 
i'lii/u'esscment  which  lies  nearest  the  affections. 

Yet  for  this  same  lack  of  selfish  cunning,  p.osterity 


l|i 


S82 


THE  TWO  GENERALS. 


Avill  praise  lim;  for  an  heroic  and  discriminating  zoa] 
■which,  tliough  impetuous,  always  liurried  liim  forwaid 
ill  the  riglit  direction,  his  children's  children  will  rise 
up  and  call  hira  blessed.  He  was  the  noblest  Culif'or- 
niari  of  them  all!  Among  all  the  wealthy,  the  pa- 
triotic, and  the  learned  of  this  land  he  alone  camo 
forward  and  flung  himself,  his  time,  his  energies,  Jiiid 
all  that  was  his,  into  the  general  fund  of  experiences 
accumulating  for  the  benefit  of  those  who  should  conic 
after  him.  His  loyalty  was  pure;  and  happy  the  god 
in  whose  conquered  city  are  still  found  worshippeis. 

Pacheco  might  promise;  Vallejo  performed.  Alva- 
rado  might  be  entertained  into  giving;  Vallejo  went 
forth  like  a  man,  and  mrk^ing  the  battle  his  own, 
fought  it  at  his  own  cost,  fought  it  not  alone  for  self- 
aggrandizement,  but  from  motives  of  patriotism  as 
well.  While  demagogues  were  ranting  of  their  <li'- 
votion  to  country,  offering  for  a  liberal  compensation 
to  sacrifice  themselves  at  Sacramento  or  at  Wasli- 
ington,  Gen<'ral  Vallejo  was  spending  his  time  and 
money  scouring  California  for  the  rescuing  of  valu- 
able knowledge  from  obliteration,  and  in  arran<'iniif 
it,  when  found,  in  form  available  to  the  world.  Let 
Spanish -speaking  Californians  honor  him,  for  he  was 
their  chief  in  chivalrous  devotion  to  a  noble  cause! 
Let  English-speaking  Californians  honor  him,  I'or 
without  the  means  of  some  he  did  more  than  any 
other  for  the  lasting  benefit  of  the  country  I  Let  all 
the  world  honor  him,  for  he  is  thrice  worthy  the 
praise  of  all  1 


CHAPTER  XVI. 


ITALIAN      STRATEGY. 


A  few  drops  of  oil  will  sot  the  political  machine  at  work,  when  a  ton 
of  vinegar  would  only  corrode  tiie  wheels  and  canker  the  movements. 

Cohon. 

Okxeral  Vallejo  was  M'ary ;  General  Cerruti  was 
wily.  Rumor  had  tilled  all  the  drawers  and  chests  at 
Lachryina  jNIoutis,  the  residence  of  General  A'^allcjo 
at  Sonoma,  with  priceless  documents  relating  to  the 
liistory  of  California,  some  saved  from  the  fire  which 
(Icstroved  his  dwellinfj,  some  gathered  since,  and 
had  endowed  the  owner  with  singular  knowledge  in 
d('{'i[)hering  them  and  in  explaining  early  alfaiis. 
Hence,  wlien  some  petty  scribbler  wished  to  talk 
largely  about  things  of  which  ho  knew  nothing,  ho 
would  visit  Sonoma,  would  bow  and  scrape  himself 
into  the  parlor  at  Lachryina  Montis,  or  besiege  the 
general  in  his  study,  and  beg  for  some  particular  pur- 
])ose  a  little  information  concerning  the  untold  past. 
The  general  declared  that  rumor  was  a  fool,  and 
directed  applicants  to  the  many  historical  and  bio- 
giapliieal  sketches  already  in  print. 

I  had  addressed  to  Sonoma  communications  of  this 
character  several  times  myself,  and  while  I  always 
received  a  polite  reply  there  was  no  tangible  result. 
As  Cerruti  displayed  more  and  more  ability  in  gath- 
eiing  material,  and  as  I  was  satisfied  that  General 
Vallejo  could  disclose  more  then  he  professed  himself 
al)le  to,  I  directed  the  Italian  to  open  correspondence 
with  him,  with  instructions  to  use  his  own  judgment 
ill  storming  the  walls  of  indifference  and  prejudice  at 
Lacliryma  Montis. 

(383) 


ii'i 


■Hi 


':|i 


;■  I 


n 


384 


ITAfJAX  STRATKGY. 


Li('enso  bciiirr  tluis  allowed  him,  Corrutl  oponrd  tlu; 
campain-n  by  addressing  a  lettor  to  Goneral  A^allcjo 
oouflu.'<l  in  terms  of  true  Spaiiish-Amori(.'au  courtesy, 
which  consists  of  boasting  and  llatteiy  in  equal  paits. 
He  did  not  fail  to  state  the  fact  that  he  also  was  a 
geniTal,  and  thouirh  but  consul-ijeneral  he  had  s(  i  u 
service — that  is,  ho  would  have  fought  had  he  iiut 
felt  constrained  to  run  away.  He  did  not  fail  lo 
state  that  he  was  a  professional  brewer  of  revolutions, 
that  he  loved  revolution  better  than  life,  that  tin; 
normal  state  of  his  Bolivia  was  revolutionary,  and  that 
if  the  people  of  Sonoma  wished  their  commonwealth 
placed  in  an  attitude  hostile  to  the  United  States,  it' 
they  desired  to  see  the  streets  of  any  opposition  or 
neiii-hborinQr  town  deluwd  in  the  blood  of  its  citizens, 
he  was  theirs  to  command.  He  had  heard  of  General 
Vallejo,  as  indeed  all  Bolivia,  and  Italy,  and  every 
other  country  had  heard  of  him.  Wherever  Califor- 
nia was  known,  there  children  lisped  the  name  Vallujo; 
indeetl,  the  terms  Vallejo  and  California  were  synony- 
mous. 

This  letter  as  a  matter  of  course  was  written  in 
Spanish.  General  Vallejo's  letters  to  me  were  always 
in  Spanish,  and  mine  to  him  were  in  Eng'lish.  Bui  It' 
you  wish  to  be  one  with  a  person,  you  will  address  liiia 
in  his  own  language.  The  date  of  Cerruti's  letter  was 
March  24,  1874.  The  big  fish  of  Lachryma  ^Nloutis 
apj^roached  the  bait  in  good  style  and  took  a  bite,  but 
did  not  fail  to  discover  the  hook;  accustomed  to  hooks 
and  baits  it  was  in  no  wise  afraid  of  them. 

To  the  searcher  after  Californian  truth  ValKji) 
was  California,  to  the  student  of  California's  historv 
Vallejo  was  California;  so  Cerruti  had  affirmed  in  his 
letter,  and  the  recipient  seemed  not  disposed  to  resnit 
the  assertion.  The  writer  loved  truth  and  history; 
he  loved  California,  and  longed  to  know  more  of  hii; 
most  of  all  he  loved  Vallejo,  who  M'as  California  on 
legs.  Not  a  word  said  Cerruti  about  Bancroft,  his 
library,    or  his  work,  preferring  to  appear  before  him 


SPAXIARD  AND  ITALIAN. 


385 


whom  he  must  conquer  as  a  late  consul-general  and 
an  exiled  soldier,  rather  than  one  holding  a  subordi- 
nate position. 

The  result  was  as  he  had  desired.  Courteously  Gen- 
eral Vallejo  replied,  at  the  same  time  intimating  that 
if  Cerruti  desired  historical  data  he  had  better  call 
and  get  it.  "Sin  embargo,"  he  says,  "por  casualidad 
(')  |)or  accidcnte,  ese  nombre  estil  relacionado  6  identi- 
t'uado  de  tal  manera  con  la  historia  do  la  Alta  Cali- 
fornia desde  su  fundacion  hasta  hoy,  que  aunque 
insignificantc,  de  veras,  Sr  Consul,  la  omision  de  6\ 
en  t'ila  sent  como  la  omision  de  un  punto  6  una  coma 
en  un  discurso  escrito  6  la  acentuacion  ortogrdfica  de 
una  carta  epistolar." 

So  Cerruti  went  to  Sonoma,  went  to  Lachryma 
Montis  almost  a  stranger,  but  carrying  with  him,  in 
tongue  and  temper  at  least,  nmch  that  was  held  in 
eonimon  by  the  man  he  visited.  It  was  a  most  diffi- 
cult undertaking,  and  I  did  not  know  another  person 
in  California  whom  I  would  have  despatched  on  this 
mission  with  any  degree  of  contidence. 

Introducing  himself,  he  told  his  talc.  In  his  pocket 
were  letters  of  introduction,  but  he  did  not  deign  to 
use  them;  he  determined  to  make  his  way  after  his 
own  fashion.  Cerruti's  was  not  the  story  to  which  the 
Sfcnoral  was  accustomed  to  turn  a  deaf  ear.  Further 
than  this,  the  Italian  had  studied  well  the  character 
of  him  he  sought  to  win,  and  knew  when  to  flatter, 
and  liow.  Spaniards  will  swallow  much  if  of  Span- 
ish flavor  and  administered  in  Spanish  doses.  This 
Cerruti  well  understood.  He  had  every  advantage. 
In  his  role  of  stransrer  visitinjj  the  first  of  Califor- 
mans,  he  could  play  upon  the  general's  pride  of 
person,  of  family;  he  could  arouse  his  wrath  or  stir 
up  soft  sympathy  almost  at  pleasure. 

And  yet  the  Spaniard  was  not  duped  by  the  Italian : 
he  was  only  pleased.  All  the  while  General  Vallejo 
knew  that  Cerruti  had  a  defined  purpose  there,  some 

Lit.  Ind.    2S 


f  m 


li 


386 


ITALIAN  STRATEGY. 


axe  to  grind,  some  favor  to  ask,  wliich  had  not  yet 
been  spoken;  and  when  finally  the  latter  veered  closer 
to  his  errand  and  spoke  of  doeumenta,  "I  preaently 
saw,"  said  the  general  to  me  afterward,  "the  ghost  of 
Bancroft  behind  him."  Nevertheless, Yallejo  listeiud 
and  was  [)lcascd.  "After  making  deep  soundings," 
writes  Cerruti  in  the  journal  I  directed  him  to  kicp, 
and  which  under  the  title  Raiiihllngs  in  Califoniln 
contains  much  reading,  "I  came  to  the  conclusion  that 
General  Vallejo  was  anxious  for  some  person  endowed 
with  literary  talents  to  engage  in  the  arduous  task 
of  giving  to  the  world  a  true  history  of  California. 
Having  come  to  this  conclusion,  I  frankly  admitted  lo 
him  that  I  had  neither  the  intelligence  nor  the  means 
required  for  so  colossal  an  enterprise,  but  assured  liim 
that  Hubert  IT.  Bancroft,"  etc.  After  a  brief  inter 
view  Cerruti  retreated  with  an  invitation  to  dine  at 
Lachryma  Montis  the  next  day. 

It  was  a  grand  opportunity,  that  dinner  party, 
for  a  few  others  had  been  invited,  and  we  may 
rest  assured  our  general  did  not  fail  to  improve  it. 
Early  during  the  courses  his  inventive  faculties  weie 
l)rought  into  play,  and  wlienever  anything  specially 
strong  arose  in  his  mind  he  threw  up  his  chin,  and 
lifted  his  voice  so  that  all  present  might  hear  it.  On 
whatever  subject  such  remai'k  might  be  it  was  sure  to 
be  received  with  laugliter  and  applau.se;  for  some- 
where interwoven  in  it  was  a  compliment  for  sonu; 
one  present,  who  if  not  specially  pleased  at  the  broad 
flattery  could  but  be  amused  at  the  ma*^ner  in  wliieli 
it  was  presented.  ]  "^ow  well  the  envoy  improved  his 
time  is  summed  in  c  o  line  of  his  account,  where  with 
charming  nau'cte  hi  says:  "In  such  pleasant  com- 
pany hunger  disappea  :>d  as  if  by  enchantment,  and  the 
food  placed  on  my  pla  3  was  left  almost  untouched " — 
in  plain  English,  he  '  dked  so  much  he  could  not  cat. 

Next  day  our  expci  t  little  general  was  everywhere, 
talking  to  everybody,  in  barber-shops,  beer-saloons, 
and  wine-cellars,  in  public  and  private  houses,  offices 


MAJOR  SALVADOR  VALT.EJO. 


S87 


and  stores,  making  friends  iuul  pickin<^  up  infonnation 
Illative  to  his  mission.  V'wy.t  lie  wrote  the  reminis- 
cences of  some  lialf  (lo/en  pioneiTs  In-  had  nu.'t  and  con- 
\  iiscd  with  on  the  boat,  at  the  liotel,  and  on  the  street, 
w  1  it  inj^s  whicli  lie  (hd  not  fail  to  spread  l)efore  (ieucral 
A'alli'jo,  with  loud  and  ludicrous  declamation  on  tho 
cliaracter  of  each.  Thus  he  ma<le  the  maijrnato  of 
Sonoma  feel  that  tho  visitor  was  at  once  to  become  a 
man  of  mark  in  that  locality,  whom  to  have  as  a  friend 
Avas  l)ettcr  for  Vallejo  than  that  he  shcjuld  l)e  regarded 
as  ()p[K)scd  to  his  mission.  liut  this  was  not  the  cause 
<<\'  tilt!  friendship  that  now  began  to  spring  up  in  tho 
lnvasts  of  these  two  men. 

This  display  of  ability  on  the  part  of  the  new-comer 
could  not  fail  to  cany  with  it  tho  res[»ect  of  those 
who  otherwise  were  sensible  enough  to  see  that  Cer- 
ruti  M'as  a  most  windy  and  erratic  talker.  But  his 
Vein  of  exaggeration,  united  as  it  was  with  energy, 
ahility,  enthusiasm,  and  honesty,  amust-d  rather  than 
ollrnded,  particularly  when  peo[)le  rt'eognized  tiiat  de- 
ivption  and  harm  were  not  intended,  but  were  the 
ivsiilt  of  habit.  Here  indeed  was  one  of  the  secret 
rhanns  of  Cerruti,this  and  his  flattery.  All  Spaniards 
diTight  in  hy[>erbole. 

Among  Cerruti's  earliest  accrual ntances  made  at 
Sonoma  was  ]\[ajor  Salvador  \  allejo,  a  younger 
ln'other  of  the  general,  and  from  whom  he  took  a 
viiy  interesting  dictation.  ^lajor  Salvador  was  born 
in  Moriterey  in  1814.  He  had  been  a  great  Indian- 
Hj^litor,  and  had  many  mteresting  events  to  relate  of 
by-gone  times. 

(-)l'ten  Cerruti  would  give  great  names  to  the  shadows 
of  nu-n,  and  find  himself  pressed  to  the  wall  by  the 
^iieatness  he  had  invoked;  often  he  was  obliged  to 
allay  by  falsehood  anger  aroused  by  indiscretion. 
Wilting  on  the  29tli  of  November  1874,  he  says: 
"Major  Salvador  Vallejo  has  perused  the  Overland, 
and  is  very  much  enraged  that  the  writer  of  the 
artiele  on  material  for  California  history  should  have 


388 


ITALIAN  STRATEGY. 


given  credit  to  Castro  and  Alvarado,  who  as  yet  have 
not  written  a  single  line,  and  that  nothing  was  said  in 
reference  to  his  dictation.  I  told  him  that  the  writer 
in  the  Overland  was  not  connected  with  the  Bancroft 
library,  but  he  refused  to  believe  what  I  said." 

Thus  the  Italian  continued,  until  a  week,  ten  days, 
a  fortnight,  passed  without  very  much  apparent  head- 
way so  far  as  the  main  object  of  his  mission  was 
concerned.  The  minor  dictations  were  all  valuable; 
but  anything  short  of  success  in  the  one  chief  direc- 
tion which  had  called  him  there  was  not  success. 
Every  day  Cerruti  danced  attendance  at  Lachryiiia 
Montis,  spending  several  hours  there,  sometimes 
dining,  sometime  ohatting  through  the  evening.  He 
created  a  favorable  impression  in  the  mind  of  ]Mis 
Vallejo,  made  love  to  the  young  women,  and  flattered 
the  general  to  his  heart's  content. 

This  was  all  very  pleasant  to  the  occupants  of  a 
country  residence.  It  was  not  every  day  there  came 
to  Lacliryma  IMontis  such  a  fascinating  fellow  as 
Cerruti,  one  who  paid  his  board  at  the  Sonoma  hotel 
and  his  bill  at  the  livery  stable;  and  no  wonder  the 
Vallcjos  enjoyed  it.  Uppermost  in  the  faithful  Ital- 
ian's mind,  however,  throughout  the  whole  of  it  was 
his  great  and  primary  purpose.  But  whenever  lie 
spoke  of  documents,  of  the  Sonoma  treasury  of  origi- 
nal historical  material,  General  Vallejo  retired  witliiii 
himself,  and  remnined  oblivious  to  the  most  wily  ;irts 
of  the  tempter.  The  old  general  would  talk;  ho  liked 
to  talk,  for  when  he  could  employ  his  native  tongue 
he  was  a  brilliant  conversationalist  and  after-dinuer 
speaker.  And  on  retiring  to  his  quarters  in  the  town 
the  younger  general,  Boswell-like,  would  record  ^^llat- 
ever  he  could  remember  of  the  words  that  fell  i'i<'Ui 
his  lips.  Sometimes,  indeed,  when  they  were  aluue 
Cerruti  would  take  out  his  note -book  and  write  as 
his  companion  spoke. 

But  all  this  was  most  unsatisfying  to  Cerruti ;  and 


SOMETHING  FROM  NOTHING. 


389 


he  now  began  more  clearly  to  intimate  that  the  spend- 
ing of  so  much  time  and  money  in  that  way  would 
be  unsatisfactory  to  Mr  Bancroft.  Then  he  plainly 
said  that  he  must  make  a  better  showing  or  retire 
from  the  field.  If  it  was  true,  as  General  Vallcjo  had 
assured  him,  that  he  had  nothing,  and  could  not  be 
prevailed  upon  to  dictate  his  recollections,  that  was 
the  end  of  it;  ho  must  return  to  San  Francisco  and 
so  report. 

This  threat  was  not  made,  however,  until  the  crafty 
Italian  had  well  considered  the  effect.  He  saw  that 
Yallcjo  was  gradually  becoming  more  and  more  inter- 
ested in  him  and  his  mission.  He  saw  that,  although 
the  general  was  extremely  reticent  regarding  what 
he  possessed,  and  what  ho  would  do,  he  was  seri- 
ously revolving  the  subject  in  his  mmd,  and  that  he 
thou<xht  much  of  it. 

But  the  old  general  could  be  as  cunning  and  crafty 
as  the  younger  one,  and  it  was  now  the  Spaniard's 
turn  to  play  upon  the  Italian.  And  this  he  did  most 
skilfully,  and  in  such  a  manner  as  thorouglily  to  de- 
ceive him  and  throw  us  all  from  the  scent. 

While  reiterating  his  assurances  (hat  he  had  noth- 
ing, and  that  he  could  disclose  nothing ;  that  when  he 
wrote  his  recollections  the  first  time  he  had  before 
hiui  the  vouchers  in  the  form  of  original  letters,  proc- 
lamations, and  other  papers,  which  were  all  swept 
away  by  the  fire  that  burned  the  manuscript  he  had 
prepared  with  such  care  and  labor ;  and  that  since  then 
ho  had  dismissed  the  subject  from  his  mind;  that, 
indeed,  it  had  become  distasteful  to  him,  and  should 
never  be  revived — while  these  facts  were  kept  con- 
stantly before  Cerruti,  as  if  firmly  to  impress  them 
upon  liis  mind,  General  Vallejo  would  uncover,  little 
by  little,  to  his  watchful  attendant  the  vast  fund  of 
information  at  his  command.  Some  anecdote,  appar- 
ently insignificant  in  itself,  would  be  artfully  inter- 
woven with  perhaps  a  dozen  historical  incidents,  and 
in  tjiis  exasperating  manner  the  searcher  after  histori- 


^k 


III 


890 


ITALIAN  STRATEGY. 


cal  facts  would  be  shown  a  fertile  field  which  it  was 
forbidden  him  to  enter. 

To  keep  the  Italian  within  call,  and  that  he  might 
not  be  so  reduced  to  despair  as  to  abandon  further 
attempts  and  return  to  San  Francisco,  Vallejo  now 
began  also  to  feed  his  appetite  with  a  few  papers  whic^h 
he  professed  to  have  found  scattered  about  the  prem- 
ises, grrnting  him  permission  to  take  copies  of  them, 
and  intimating  that  perhaps  he  might  find  a  few  luoic 
when  those  were  returned.  There  was  his  office,  or 
the  parlor,  at  the  scribe's  disposal,  where  he  might 
write  unmolested. 

With  a  will  Cerruti  began  his  task.  When  it  Avas 
finished  a  few  more  papers  were  given  him.  At  first 
General  Vallejo  would  on  no  account  permit  a  single 
paper  to  be  taken  from  the  premises.  But  work- 
ing hours  at  Lachryma  Montis  must  necessarily  lie 
short,  and  interruptions  frequent.  Would  not  General 
Vallejo  kindly  repose  confidence  enough  to  permit  Jiiin 
to  take  the  documents  to  his  hotel  to  copy,  upon  his 
sacred  assurance  that  not  one  of  them  should  pass 
out  of  his  hands,  but  should  be  returned  immediately 
the  copy  was  made?  With  apparent  reluctance  the 
request  was  finally  granted. 

This  madt'  Cerruti  hilarious  in  his  letters  to  Oak. 
General  Vallejo  was  a  great  and  good  man,  and  was 
rapidly  taking  him  into  his  friendship,  which  was  in- 
deed Cv'ery  word  of  it  true.  And  now  in  some  un- 
accountable way  the  papers  to  be  copied  rnjiidly 
increased;  more  of  them  were  brought  to  light  than 
had  been  thought  to  exist.  The  hotel  was  noisy  and 
unpleasant,  and  the  copyist  finally  determined  to  rent 
a  room  on  the  street  fronting  the  plaza,  where  he 
might  write  and  receive  his  friends.  There  he  could 
keep  his  own  wine  and  cigars  with  which  to  regale 
those  who  told  him  their  story,  and  the  sums  which 
were  now  spent  at  bar-rooms  treating  these  always 
thirsty  persons  would  pay  room  rent.  Cerruti  was 
a  close  financier,  but  a  liberal  spender  of  other  men's 


COMING  CONFIDENCE. 


391 


money.  It  is  needless  to  say  that  as  the  result  of 
this  deeply  laid  economic  scheme  the  copyist  had  in 
his  office  usually  two  or  three  worthless  idlers  drinking 
and  smoking  in  the  name  of  literature  and  at  the 
expense  of  history,  persons  whom  he  found  it  impos- 
sible to  get  rid  of,  and  whom  it  was  not  policy  to 
offend. 

Thicker  and  broader  was  each  succeeding  package 
now  given  the  brave  consul-general  to  copy,  until  he 
began  to  tire  of  it.  Ho  must  have  help.  What  harm 
would  there  be,  after  all,  if  he  sent  part  of  each 
package  carefully  by  express  to  the  library  to  be 
copied  there?  There  was  no  risk.  He  could  represent 
to  me  that  General  Vallejo  had  given  permission, 
with  the  understanding  that  they  must  be  returned 
at  once.  Besides,  it  was  absolutely  necessary  that 
.something  should  be  done.  Sonoma  was  an  extremely 
dull,  uninteresting  place,  and  he  did  not  propose  to 
.spend  the  remainder  of  his  days  there  copying  dt)c- 
uments. 

The  method  he  employed,  which  would  at  once 
enable  him  to  accomplish  his  object  and  keep  his  faith, 
was  somewhat  unique.  Major  Salvador  Vallejo  once 
wishing  Cerruti  to  spend  the  day  with  him,  the  latter 
replied:  "I  cannot;  I  must  copy  these  papers;  but  if 
you  will  assume  the  responsibility  and  send  them  to 
San  Francisco  to  be  copied  I  am  at  your  service." 
Salvador  at  once  assented,  and  ever  after  all  breaches 
of  trust  were  laid  upon  his  shoulders. 

Thus  matters  continued  for  two  months  and  more, 
during  which  time  Oak,  Fisher,  and  myself  severally 
made  visits  to  Sonoma  and  were  kindly  entertained 
at  Lachryma  Montis.  All  thir,  time  General  Vallejo 
was  gaining  confidence  in  my  messenger  and  my  work, 
lie  could  but  be  assured  that  this  literary  under- 
taking was  no  speculation,  or  superficial  clap-trap,  but 
genuine,  solid,  searching  work.  Once  thoroughly  sat- 
isfied of  this,  and  the  battle  was  won;  for  General 
Vallejo  was  not  the  man  to  leave  himself,  his  family, 


392 


ITALIAN  STRATEGY. 


'I 


his  many  prominent  and  unrecorded  deeds,  out  of  a 
work  such  as  this  purported  to  be. 

One  day  while  in  a  somewhat  more  than  usually 
confidential  mood  he  said  to  Cerruti:  "I  cannot  but 
believe  Mr  Bancroft  to  be  in  earnest,  and  that  he 
means  to  give  the  world  a  true  history  of  Califor- 
nia. I  was  born  in  this  country;  I  once  undertook  to 
write  its  history,  but  my  poor  manuscript  and  my 
house  were  burned  together.  I  was  absent  from  home 
at  the  time.  By  mere  chance  my  servants  succeeded 
in  saving  several  bundles  of  documents  referring  to 
the  early  days  of  California,  but  the  number  was  in- 
significant compared  with  those  destroyed.  However, 
I  will  write  to  San  Josd  for  a  trunk  filled  with  papers 
that  I  have  there,  and  of  which  you  may  copy  for 
Mr  Bancroft  what  you  please." 

"  But,  General, "  exclaimed  Cerruti,  overwhelmed 
by  the  revelation,  "I  cannot  copy  them  here.  Since 
you  have  been  so  kind  as  to  repose  this  confidence  in 
me,  permit  me  to  take  the  papers  to  the  library  and 
employ  men  to  copy  them;  otherwise  I  might  work 
over  them  for  years. " 

"Well,  be  it  so,"  replied  the  general;  "and  while 
you  are  about  it,  there  are  two  other  chests  of  docu- 
ments here  which  I  have  never  disturbed  since  the 
fire.  Take  them  also :  copy  them  as  quickly  as  you 
can  and  return  them  to  me.  I  shall  be  more  than 
repaid  if  Mr  Bancroft's  history  proves  such  as  my 
country  deserves." 

Now  it  was  a  fundamental  maxim  with  Cerruti 
never  to  be  satisfied.  In  collecting  material,  where 
I  and  most  men  would  be  gratefully  content,  acquisi- 
tion only  made  him  the  more  avaricious.  As  long 
as  there  was  anything  left,  so  long  did  he  not  cease 
to  importune. 

"  Why  not  multiply  this  munificence  fourfold,"  he 
said,  "  by  giving  Mr  Bancroft  these  documents  out 
and  out,  and  so  save  him  the  heavy  expense  of  copying 
them?   Thai,  would  be  a  deed  worthy  General  Vallejo. 


THE  EVOLUTION  OF  A  HISTORY. 


S8S 


Surely  Mr  Bancroft's  path  is  beset  with  difficulties 
enough  at  best.  In  his  library  your  documents  will 
bo  safely  kept;  they  will  be  collated,  bound,  and 
bbelled  with  your  name,  and  this  good  act  shall  not 
only  be  heralded  now,  but  the  record  of  it  shall  stand 
forever." 

"No,  sirl"  exclaimed  the  general,  emphatically, 
"x^t  all  events  not  now.  And  I  charge  you  to  make  no 
further  allusion  to  such  a  possibility  if  you  value  my 
favor.  Think  you  I  regard  these  papers  so  lightly  as 
to  be  wheedled  out  of  them  in  little  more  than  two 
short  months,  and  by  one  almost  a  stranger?  You 
have  asked  many  times  for  my  recollections ;  those  I 
am  now  prepared  to  give  you." 

"■  Good !"  cried  Cerruti,  who  was  always  ready  to 
take  what  he  could  get,  provided  he  could  not  get 
what  he  wanted.  "All  ready,  general;  you  may  begin 
your  narrative." 

"My  friend,"  returned  the  general,  mildly,  "you 
seem  to  be  in  haste.  I  should  take  you  for  a  Yankee 
rather  than  for  an  Italian.  Do  you  expect  me  to  write 
liistory  on  horseback?  I  do  not  approve  of  this 
method.  I  am  willing  and  ready  to  relate  all  I  can 
rcuiember,  but  I  wish  it  clearly  understood  that  it 
must  be  in  my  own  way,  and  at  my  own  time.  I  will 
not  be  hurried  or  dictated  to.  It  is  my  history,  and  not 
yours,  I  propose  to  tell.  Pardon  me,  my  friend,  for 
speaking  thus  plainly,  but  I  am  particular  on  this 
point.  If  I  give  my  story  it  must  be  worthy  of  the 
cause  and  worthy  of  me." 

To  Cerruti  it  was  easier  to  write  a  dozen  pages 
than  to  think  about  writing  one.  In  the  opinion  of 
Vallejo,  such  a  writer  deserved  to  be  burned  upon  a 
pile  of  his  own  works,  like  Cassius  Etruscus,  who 
boasted  he  could  write  four  hundred  pa^es  in  one  day. 

But  this  rebuke  was  not  unpalatable,  for  it  lifted 
the  matter  at  once  from  the  category  of  personal  nar- 
rative to  the  higher  plane  of  exact  history.  It  was 
history,  and  nothing  beneath  it,  to  be  written  no  less 


S94 


ITALIAN  STRATEGY. 


from  documentary  than  from  personal  evidence,  and 
from  the  documents  and  experien  es  of  others,  as  well 
as  from  his  papers  and  personal  observations. 

With  June  came  the  two  generals  to  San  Francisco. 
The  Vallejo  documents  were  all  in  the  library,  and 
round  one  of  the  long  tables  were  seated  eight  Mexi- 
cans copying  them.  One  morning  the  Spaniard  and 
the  Italian  entered  the  library.  I  think  this  was 
General  Vallejo's  first  visit  to  the  fifth  floor. 

It  was  to  him  an  impressive  sight.  Passing  the 
copyists,  who,  with  one  accord  signified  their  respect 
by  rising  and  bowing  low,  he  was  conducted  to  my 
room.  Savage,  Nemos,  Oak,  Harcourt,  Fisher,  and 
one  or  two  Spaniards  who  happened  to  be  acquainted 
with  the  general,  then  came  in;  cigars  were  passed 
and  the  conversation  became  general.  The  history  of 
California,  with  the  Vallejo  family  as  a  central  figUxj, 
was  the  theme,  and  it  was  earnestly  and  honestly  dis- 
cussed. Two  hours  were  then  spent  by  the  distin- 
guished visitor  examining  the  library.  He  was 
attended  by  Mr  Savage,  who  explained  everything, 
giving  in  detail  what  wo  had  done,  what  we  were 
doing,  and  what  we  proposed  to  do. 

It  was  very  evident  that  General  Vallejo  was  im- 
pressed and  pleased.  Here  was  the  promise  of  a  work 
which  of  all  others  lay  nearest  his  heart,  conducted 
on  a  plan  which  if  carried  out  would,  he  was  con- 
vinced, secure  the  grandest  results.  It  was  a  work  in 
which  he  was  probably  more  nearly  concerned  than 
the  author  of  it.  If  I  was  the  writer  of  history,  lie 
was  the  embodiment  of  history.  This  he  seemed  fully 
to  realize. 

Cerruti  saw  his  opportunity ;  let  my  faithful  Italian 
alone  for  that!  He  saw  Vallejo  drinking  it  all  in  like 
an  inspiration;  he  saw  it  in  his  enkindled  eye,  in  his 
flushed  face  and  firm  tread.  Before  the  examination 
of  the  library  was  fairly  finished,  placing  him  If  by 
the  side  of  his  now  sincere  and  devoted  friend  he 
whispered,  "Now  is  your  time,  general.     If  you  arc 


THE  VALLEJO  ARCHIVES. 


395 


ever  going  to  give  those  papers — and  what  better  can 
you  do  with  them? — this  is  the  proper  moment.  Mr 
Bancroft  suspects  nothing.  Tiicre  are  the  copyists, 
seated  to  at  least  a  twelvemonth's  labor.  A  word 
from  you  will  save  him  this  large  and  unnecessary  ex- 
penditure, secure  his  gratitude,  and  the  admiration  of 
all  present." 

"He  deserves  them  I"  was  the  reply.  "Tell  him 
they  are  his." 

I  was  literally  speechless  with  astonishment  and 
joy  when  Cerruti  said  to  me,  "General  Vallcjo  gives 
you  all  his  papers."  Besides  the  priceless  intrinsic 
\alue  of  these  documents,  which  would  forever  place 
my  library  beyond  the  power  of  man  to  equal  in 
original  material  for  California  history,  the  example 
would  double  the  benefits  of  the  gift. 

I  knew  General  Vallejo  would  not  stop  there.  He 
was  slow  to  be  won,  but  once  enlisted,  his  native  en- 
thusiasm would  carry  him  to  the  utmost  limit  of  his 
al)ility;  and  I  was  right.  From  that  moment  I  had 
not  only  a  friend  and  supporter,  but  a  diligent  worker. 
Side  by  side  wath  Savage  and  Cerruti,  for  the  next 
two  years  he  alternately  wrote  history  and  scoured 
the  country  for  ^resh  personal  and  documentary  infor- 
mation. 

"When  I  visited  San  Francisco  last  Avcek,"  writes 
General  Vallcjo  to  the  Sonoma  Democrat,  \\\  reply 
to  a  complaint  that  the  Vallejo  archives  should  have 
been  permitted  to  become  the  property  of  a  private 
individual,  "I  had  not  the  sliglitcst  intention  of  part- 
ing with  my  documents;  but  my  friends  having  in- 
duced me  to  visit  Mr  Bancroft's  library,  where  I  was 
shown  the  greatest  attention,  and  moreover  allowed 
to  look  at  thousands  of  marmscripts,  some  of  them 
hearing  the  signatures  of  Columbus,  Isabel  the  catli- 
oHc,  Philip  II.,  and  various  others  preeminent  among 
those  who  figured  during  the  fifteenth  century,  I  was 
exceedingly  pleased;  and  when  Mr  Bancroft  had  the 
goodness  to  submit  to  my  inspection  seven  or  eight 


i  I- 


396 


ITALIAN  STRATEGY. 


thousand  pages  written  by  himself,  and  all  relating  to 
California,  the  history  of  which  until  now  has  re- 
mained unwritten,  I  could  not  but  admire  the  writer 
who  has  taken  upon  himself  the  arduous  task  of  giving 
to  the  world  a  complete  history  of  the  country  in 
which  I  was  born;  and  therefore  I  believed  it  my  duty 
to  offer  to  him  the  documents  in  my  possession,  with 
the  certainty  that  their  perusal  would  in  some  wise 
contribute  to  the  stupendous  enterprise  of  a  young 
writer  who  is  employing  his  means  and  intelligence  for 
the  purpose  of  carrying  to  a  favorable  termination  the 
noble  task  of  bequeathing  to  the  land  of  his  adoption 
a  history  worthy  of  his  renown." 

I  thanked  the  general  as  best  I  could;  but  words 
poorly  expressed  my  gratitude.  The  copyists  were 
dismissed,  all  but  two  or  three,  who  were  put  to  work 
arranging  and  indexing  the  documents  preparatory  to 
binding.  A  title-page  was  printed,  and  when  the 
work  was  done  twenty- seven  large  thick  volumes  of 
original  material,  each  approaching  the  dimensions 
of  a  quarto  dictionary,  were  added  to  the  library; 
nor  did  General  Vallejo  oease  his  good  work  until  the 
twenty-seven  were  made  fifty. 

That  night  I  entertained  the  general  at  my  house; 
and  shortly  afterward  he  brought  his  family  from 
Lachryma  Montis  and  stayed  a  month  with  me,  a  por- 
tion of  which  time  the  general  himself,  attended  by 
Cerruti,  spent  at  Monterey  writing  and  collecting. 

It  was  in  April  1874  that  Cerruti  began  writing  in 
Spanish  the  Historia  de  California,  dictated  by  M.  G. 
Vallejo.  It  was  understood  from  the  first  that  this 
history  was  for  my  sole  use,  not  to  be  printed  unless 
I  should  so  elect,  and  this  was  not  at  all  probable. 
It  was  to  be  used  by  me  in  writing  my  history  as 
other  chief  authorities  were  used;  the  facts  and  inci- 
dents therein  contained  were  to  be  given  their  proper 
place  and  importance  side  by  side  with  other  facts 
and  incidents. 

The  two  years  of  labor  upon  the  Vallejo  history 


HISTORIA  DE  CALIFORNIA. 


397 


was  cheerfully  borne  by  the  auth  ^r  for  the  benefit  it 
would  confer  upon  his  country,  and  that  without 
even  the  hope  of  some  time  seeing  it  in  print.  Un- 
doubtedly there  was  personal  and  family  pride  con- 
nected with  it ;  yet  it  was  a  piece  of  as  pure  patriotism 
as  it  has  ever  been  my  lot  to  encounter.  General 
Vallejo  never  would  accept  from  me  compensation 
for  his  part  of  the  work.  I  was  to  furnish  an  amanu- 
ensis in  the  person  of  Cerruti,  and  the  fruits  of  their 
combined  labor  were  to  be  mine  unreservedly.  As  it 
was,  the  cost  to  me  amounted  to  a  large  sum;  but 
liad  the  author  cliargcd  me  for  his  time  and  expenses, 
it  would  have  been  twice  us  umch. 

This  and  other  obligations  of  which  I  shall  have 
occasion  to  speak  hereafter,  I  can  never  forget.  Pos- 
terity cannot  estimate  them  too  highly.  General 
Vallejo  was  the  only  man  on  the  coast  who  could  have 
done  this  if  he  would;  and  besides  being  the  most 
competent,  he  was  by  far  the  most  willing  person  with 
whom  I  had  much  to  do.- 

Yet  this  obligation  did  not  in  the  slightest  degree 
bind  me  to  his  views  upon  any  question.  I  trust  I 
need  not  say  at  this  late  date  that  I  was  swayed  by  no 
palpable  power  to  one  side  or  another  in  my  writings. 
Knowing  how  lavish  Spaniards  are  of  their  praises, 
how  absurdly  extravagant  their  inflated  panegyrics 
sound  to  Anglo-Saxon  ears,  and  how  coldly  calculating 
English  laudations  appear  to  them,  I  never  hoped  to 
l)lease  Californians ;  I  never  thought  it  possible  to 
satisfy  them,  never  wrote  to  satisfy  them,  or,  indeed, 
any  other  class  or  person.  And  I  used  to  say  to  Gen- 
eral Vallejo :  "You  being  a  reasonable  man  will  under- 
stand, and  will,  I  hope,  believe  that  I  have  aimed  to 
do  your  people  justice.  But  they  will  not  as  a  class 
think  so.  I  claim  to  have  no  prejudices  as  regards  the 
Ilispano-Californians,  or  if  I  have  they  are  all  in  their 
favor.  Yet  you  will  agree  with  me  that  they  have 
their  faults,  in  common  with  Englishmen,  Americans, 
and  all  men.    None  of  us  are  perfect,  as  none  of  us 


ir: 


I -J  r 


1 1.1 


398  ITALIAN  STRATEGY. 

aro  wholly  bad.  Now  nothing  less  than  superlative 
and  perpetual  encomiums  would  satisfy  your  country- 
men; and,  indeed,  should  I  swell  their  praises  to  the 
skies  on  every  page,  the  most  lying  trickster  of  them  all 
would  think  I  had  not  given  him  half  his  due  in  com- 
mendation. I  cannot  write  to  please  catholic  or  prot- 
estant,  to  win  the  special  applause  of  race,  sect,  or  jjarty; 
otherwise  my  writings  would  be  worthless.  Truth 
alone  is  all  I  seek;  that  I  will  stand  or  fall  by.  And  I 
believe  that  you,  general,  will  uphold  me  therein." 

Thus  I  endeavored  to  prepare  his  mind  for  any  un- 
wholesome truths  which  he  might  see;  for  most  as- 
suredly I  should  utter  them  as  they  came,  no  matter 
who  might  be  the  sufferer  or  what  the  cost.  Indeed, 
I  felt  sure  that  before  long,  in  some  way,  I  should 
unintentionally  tread  upon  the  general's  toes,  for  on 
many  points  he  was  extremely  sensitive.  Cerruti  felt 
it  his  duty  to  be  con.stantly  urging  me  to  write  to  and 
wait  upon  the  general;  to  be  constantly  reminding 
me  that  this  would  please  him,  that  lie  would  expect 
such  a  thing,  or  if  I  failed  in  this  attention  he  would 
think  me  offended;  and  thus  my  time  was  severely 
taxed  to  keep  this  man  in  good  humor.  True,  ho  was 
not  the  fool  that  Cerruti  would  have  me  believe;  and 
yet,  in  common  with  all  hidalgos,  he  thought  highly 
of  himself  and  loved  attention.  It  was  tins  untiring 
devotion  which  Cerruti  could  give,  but  I  could  not, 
that  first  won  Vallejo  to  our  cause. 

For  several  years,  while  busiest  in  the  collection  of 
material,  a  good  share  of  my  time  was  taken  up  in 
conciliating  thpse  whom  I  had  never  offended;  that 
is  to  say,  those  ancient  children,  my  Hispano-Cah- 
fornian  allies,  who  were  constantly  coming  to  grief. 
Some  of  them  were  jealous  of  me,  some  jealous  of 
each  other;  all  by  nature  seemed  ready  to  raise  their 
voices  in  notes  of  disputatious  woe  upon  the  slightest 
provocation. 

For  example :  Greneral  Vallejo  had  no  sooner  given 
his  papers  to  the  libraiy  than  one  of  the  copyists, 


LUBIENSKY  AND  ZALDO. 


390 


Lubiensky,  a  Polish  count  he  called  himself,  and  may- 
have  been  so  for  aught  I  know,  wrote  the  notary 
Ramon  de  Zaldo,  a  friend  of  Vallcjo,  a  letter,  in 
which  he,  the  count,  called  in  question  the  general's 
motives  in  thus  parting  with  his  papers. 

"It  was  to  gam  the  good-will  of  Mr  Bancroft  that 
these  documents  were  tlius  given  him,"  said  the  count, 
"and  consequently  we  may  expect  to  sec  the  history 
written  in  the  Vallejo  interest,  to  the  detriment  of 
other  Californians." 

When  General  Vallejo  stepped  into  the  notary's 
office  next  morning,  Zaldo  showed  him  the  letter. 
Vallejo  was  very  angry,  and  justly  so.  It  was  a  most 
malicious  blow,  aimed  at  the  general's  most  sensitive 
spot. 

"It  is  an  infamous  lie!"  the  general  raved,  walking 
up  and  down  the  office.  "If  ever  an  act  of  mine  was 
disinterested,  and  done  from  pure  and  praiseworthy 
motives,  this  was  such  a  one.  What  need  have  I  to 
court  Mr  Bancroft's  favors?  He  was  as  much  my 
friend  before  I  gave  the  papers  as  he  could  be.  There 
was  not  the  slightest  intimation  of  a  compact.  ]\tr 
Bancroft  is  not  to  bo  influenced;  nor  would  I  iniiiicnce 
him  if  I  could.  I  felt  that  he  deserved  this  much  at 
my  hands;  and  I  only  regret  that  my  limited  income 
prevents  me  from  supplementing  the  gift  with  a  hun- 
dred thousand  dollars  to  help  carry  forward  the  good 
work,  so  that  the  biuden  of  it  should  not  fall  wliolly 
on  one  man." 

While  the  general  was  thus  fuming,  Corruti  entered 
the  notary's  office,  and  on  learning  the  cause  of  his 
anger  endeavored  to  quiet  him.  As  a  matter  of 
course,  on  being  informed  of  the  circumstance  I  im- 
mediately discharged  the  count,  who  was  among  those 
retained  to  collate  the  documents,  and  who  seemed  to 
have  been  actuated  only  by  a  love  of  mischief  in 
stirring  up  strife  between  the  general  and  those  of 
his  countrymen  who  had  been  thrown  out  of  employ- 
ment by  his  gift,  which  did  away  with  the  necessity 


i 


400 


ITALIAN  STRATEGY. 


of  copying.  This,  to  many  a  slight  thing,  was  more 
than  enough  to  upset  the  equanimity  of  my  Spanish 
friends.  With  half  a  dozen  of  them  effervescmg  at 
once,  as  was  sometimes  the  case,  it  was  no  easy  matter 
to  prevent  revolution. 

Of  Cerruti's  Ramhlings  there  are  two  hundred  and 
thirteen  pages.  Portions  of  the  manuscript  are  ex- 
ceedingly amusing,  particularly  to  one  acquainted  witli 
the  writer.  I  will  let  him  speak  of  a  trip  to  San  Josd, 
made  by  him  in  June,  I  think,  1874.  Just  before 
Cerruti  sot  out  on  this  journey  General  Vallcjo  came 
again  to  San  Francisco,  notifying  mo  of  his  approach 
in  the  following  words:  "El  mdrtes  ird  d  San  Fran- 
cisco d  visitar  el  Parthenon  del  quo  listed  es  el 
Pericles."  When  we  remember  how  little  Cerruti  had 
lived  in  English-speaking  countries,  and  how  little 
practice  he  had  had  in  writing  and  speaking  English, 
his  knowledge  of  the  language  is  remarkable : 

"A  few  days  after  my  arrival  in  San  Francisco  I 
visited  San  Josd,  well  supplied  with  letters  of  in- 
troduction from  General  Vallejo.  My  first  stops  on 
i-eaching  that  city  were  directed  toward  the  Bornal 
farm,  where  dwelt  an  aged  gentleman  who  went  by 
the  name  of  Francisco  Peralta,  but  whose  real  name 
I  could  not  ascertain.  I  gave  him  a  letter  of  intro- 
duction from  General  Vallejo.  He  read  it  three  or 
four  times ;  then  he  went  to  a  drawer  and  from  among 
some  rags  pulled  out  a  splendid  English  translation 
of  the  voyages  of  Father  Font,  He  took  off  tho 
dust  from  the  manuscript,  then  handed  it  to  me.  I 
looked  at  it  for  a  few  moments  l<->r  the  purpose  of 
making  sure  that  I  hold  the  riic'it  document.  Then 
I  unbuttoned  my  overcoat  and  placed  it  in  my 
bosom. 

"  'What  are  you  doing,  my  friend?'  shouted  Peralta. 

"I  replied:  'Estoy  poniendo  el  documento  en  lugar 
de  seguridad,  tengo  que  caminar  esta  noche  y  recclo 
que  el  sereno  lo  moje,' 

"He  looked  astonished,  and  then  said:  *I  will  not 


^ 


LEAVES  FROM  CERRU'.  I  '  RAMBLINGS. 


401 


allow  you  to  take  it  away.  General  Vallejo  requested 
that  I  should  permit  you  to  copy  it.  That  I  am 
willing  to  do ;  but  as  to  giving  you  my  Font,  that  is 
out  of  the  question.' 

"As  I  had  brought  along  with  me  a  buttle  of  the 
host  brandy,  I  called  for  a  corkscrew  and  a  couple  of 
1,'liisses,  and  having  liglitod  a  scgar  I  presented  my 
companion  with  a  real  llabana.  Having  accepted  it, 
we  were  soon  engaged  in  conversation." 

The  writer  tlicn  gives  a  sketch  of  the  settlement 
and  early  history  of  San  Jose  as  narrated  by  his  aged 
companion.    After  wliich  he  continues: 

"  I  then  tried  to  induce  ]\Ir  Peralta  to  give  me  a 
tow  details  about  himself,  but  to  no  purpose.  I  kej)t 
on  filling  his  glass  till  the  bottle  was  emptied,  but  I 
gained  nothing  by  the  trick,  because  every  time  he 
tasted  he  drank  the  health  of  General  Vallejo,  and  of 
course  1  could  not  conveniently  refuse  to  keep  him 
company.  Tlic  chjck  of  the  farm-house  having  struck 
two,  I  bid  adieu  to  Mr  Peralta,  unfastened  my  horse 
that  had  remained  tied  to  a  post  during  five  hours, 
aufl  then  returned  to  San  Jose.  Of  course  I  brought 
along  with  mc  the  venerable  Father  Font!  I  have 
heard  that  Peralta  a  few  days  later  wrote  to  General 
A'^allqjo  a  letter  in  which  he  said  that  I  had  stolen  the 
niimuscript  from  him.  He  wrote  a  falsehood,  well 
knowing  it  to  be  such  at  the  time  he  wrote.  To  speak 
plainly,  I  will  observe  that  the  person  who  like  Mr 
i'cralta  goes  under  an  assumed  name  is  not  much  to 
be  trusted.  His  secret,  however,  is  known  to  General 
^^allojo;  and  should  I  be  allowed  to  live  long  enough 
I  will  surely  discover  it,  because  I  have  a  peculiar  way 
of  acquiring  knowledge  of  things  and  persons,  things 
wliieh  I  ought  to  know;  and  surely  no  person  will 
gainsay  my  right  to  know  everything  that  is  to  be 
known  about  my  defamer." 

When  I  learned  how  far  the  Italian  had  been 
carried  by  his  zeal  in  my  behalf,  I  returned  Peralta 
the  book  with  ample  apologies. 


'  Is!; 

'f: 


Lit.  Ins.    26 


402 


ITALIAN  STRATEGY. 


I  I 


II 


\    <'■' 


\\ 


s  t  ; 


^H 


w 


Ccrruti  now  proceeded  to  the  college  at  Santa 
Clara,  and  thus  describes  the  visit: 

"  With  reverential  awt,  cast-down  eyes,  and  studied 
demeanor  of  meekness,  I  entered  the  edifice  of  learn- 
ing. As  soon  as  the  gate  closed  behind  me  I  took  oil' 
my  hat  and  addressed  the  porter,  whom  I  requests 
to  send  my  card  to  the  reverend  father  director. 
Having  said  that  much  I  entei-ed  the  parlor,  opened 
a  prayer-book  that  happened  to  be  at  hand,  and  be^an 
to  road  the  Miserere  meiDeus  secundum  magnam  mis- 
ericordiam  tuam,  which  lines  recalled  to  my  mind  many 
gloomy  thoughts;  for  the  last  time  I  had  sung  these 
solenm  sentences  was  at  the  funeral  of  President  Mv\- 
garejo,  the  man  who  had  been  to  me  a  second  i'atlin. 
But  I  was  not  allowed  much  time  for  rellection,  lie- 
cause  j)resently  a  tall  priest  of  pleasing  countenaneL; 
liiitered  the  parlor,  beckoned  me  to  a  chair,  and  in  a 
voice  tliat  rotiocted  kindness  and  good-will  begged  nt' 
inc  to  explain  the  object  which  had  procured  for  him 
the  [)leasure  of  my  visit.  I  then  announced  myself 
as  the  representative  of  the  groat  historian,  II.  J)an- 
eroft" — I  may  as  well  here  state  that  whenever  f Jei- 
]'iiti  mentioned  my  name  in  the  jircscnce  of  strange  is 
there  were  no  adjectives  in  any  language  too  lofty  to 
em[)loy — "uotitied  him  that  my  object  in  visiting  the 
eoUege  was  tor  the  purpose  of  having  a  fair  view  of 
the  library  and  of  examining  the  manuscripts  it  con- 
tained. I  likewise  assured  liim  that  though  the  history 
was  not  written  by  a  member  of  the  church  of  lunnr, 
yet  in  it  nothing  derogatory  to  the  catholic  faith  would 
be  found.  I  added,  however,  that  the  bigoted  [)rie>is 
who  had  destroyed  the  Aztec  paintings,  monuments, 
and  hierogly])hies,  wliicli  ought  to  have  been  preserved 
lor  the  beneiit  of  posterity,  would  be  censureil  in  dur 
foi-m,  and  their  ij^rave  sin  ajjfainst  science  connnented 
uj-fon  with  the  severity  required.  He  reflected  a  mo- 
ment and  then  said:  'I  see  no  reason  why  I  should 
object  to  have  the  truth  made  known.  History  is  tlio 
light  of  truth;  and  when  an  impartial  writer  undri- 


i;  1 


MOVEMENTS  OF  CERRUTI. 


403 


takes  to  write  the  history  of  a  country  we  must  not 
conceal  a  single  fact  of  public  interest.' 

"After  saying  this  he  left  the  room.  In  about  two 
minutes  he  returned  with  the  priest  who  had  charge 
of  the  college  library.  He  introduced  his  subordinate 
to  me  and  then  added :  *  Father  Jacobo  will  be  happy 
to  place  at  your  disposal  every  book  and  r;«i".ii script, 
we  possess.'  The  father  superior  having  retired,  I  en- 
gaged in  conversation  with  the  librarian,  who  forth- 
^\  ith  proceeded  to  the  library,  where  I  perceived  many 
thousand  books  arranged  upon  shelves,  but  found  only 
a  lew  manuscripts.  Among  the  manuscripts  I  dis- 
covered one  of  about  eight  hundred  pages,  whicl.  con- 
tained a  detailed  account  of  the  founding  of  every 
church  built  in  Mexico  and  Guatemala.  The  manu- 
script was  not  complete;  the  first  eighty  pages  were 
missing.  There  were  also  a  few  pages  of  a  diary  kept 
by  one  of  the  first  settlers  of  San  Diego,  but  the  rest 
of  the  diary  was  missing.  T  copied  a  few  pages  from 
this  manuscript;  then  I  tied  together  every  document 
I  judged  would  be  of  interest  to  ^Mr  Bancroft,  de- 
H\  ored  the  package  to  the  father  librarian,  and  bogged 
ol'  liim  to  see  the  father  superior  and  request  his  por- 
niission  to  forward  the  bundle  to  San  Francisco.  lie 
started  to  fulfil  my  request,  and  assured  me  that 
thotigh  he  had  no  hope  of  success,  because  it  was 
against  the  rules  of  the  college,  he  would  make  known 
my  wishes  to  his  chief  He  was  absent  half  an  hour, 
whou  he  returned  bearinjx  a  neirativo  answer.  Amonix 
othoi-  thmgs  he  said  that  the  nianus^Mipts  I  wanted  to 
.send  away  did  not  belong  to  the  coll(>go,  but  wore  the 
prnporty  of  some  pious  person  who  liad  placed  them 
under  their  charge,  with  instructions  not  to  let  the 
papers  go  out  of  their  possession.  I  f-lt  convinced 
that  my  reverend  countryman  was  telling  me  the 
tiuih,  so  I  abstained  from  urging  my  petition;  btit  I 
hitiited  myself -^i  make  a  single  request,  namely,  tliat 
he  would  be  so  kind  as  to  keep  in  a  separate  [)la('e 
tin    i)a('kage  I  had  prepared.     He  agreetl  to  it,     I 


r 

<  J 


404 


ITALIAN  STRATEGY. 


my 


' 


embraced  him  Italian  style,  and  then  directed 
steps  toward  the  residence  of  Mr  Arguello. 

"  I  rang  the  bell  of  the  stately  dwelling  in  whicli 
the  descendant  of  governors  dwelt,  and  having  been 
ushered  into  the  presence  of  Mr  ArgUello,  I  stated 
to  him  the  object  of  my  visit.  He  listened  with  the 
air  of  one  anxious  to  impress  upon  my  mind  the  idea 
that  I  stood  in  the  presence  of  a  very  great  man. 

"  When  I  concluded  my  introductory  remarks,  he 
said :  *  Well,  well,  in  all  this  large  house,  by  far  the 
best  one  in  Santa  Clara,  there  does  not  exist  a  single 
scrap  of  paper  that  could  be  useful  to  an  historian.  I 
once  found  a  great  many  documents  that  had  been 
the  property  of  my  grandfather,  also  some  belonging 
to  my  father,  but  I  have  set  fire  to  them;  I  did  net 
like  the  idea  of  encumbering  my  fine  dwelling  with 
boxes  containing  trash,  so  I  got  rid  of  the  rubbish  by 
burning  the  whole  lot.' 

"  Before  Mr  Arguello  had  uttered  four  words  I  felt 
convinced  that  I  stood  in  the  presence  of  a  self-con- 
ceited fool.  With  people  of  that  class  it  is  useless  to 
waste  sound  arguments  and  good  reasoning.  I  knew 
it  to  be  the  case  by  experience.  Therefore  without 
uttering  another  word  except  the  commonplace  com- 
pliments, I  left  the  'best  house  in  Santa  Clara'  and 
took  the  road  that  led  to  the  telegraph  office,  and 
there  addressed  a  telegram  to  General  Mariano  G. 
Vallejo,  requesting  his  presence  in  Santa  Clara.  I 
took  that  step  because  I  believed  that  Mr  Argiiell(» 
had  told  me  lies.  I  thought  it  so  strange  that  u  ^;on 
who  had  reached  the  age  of  fifty  years  should  be  so 
stupid  as  to  burn  the  family  archives.  I  also  begun 
to  fear  that  my  plain  talk  had  given  offence;  thcreloic 
I  ventured  to  send  for  the  good  friend  of  Mr  Bun 
croft,  for  the  admirer  of  his  perseverance,  hoping  that 
the  high  respect  in  which  Mr  Argiiello  held  General 
Vallejo  would  induce  him  to  place  at  his  dispo'^al  any 
documents  he  might  have  in  the  house. 

"After  sending  the  telegram  I  visited  an  aged  In- 


THE  ARGUELLOS. 


405 


dlan,  by  name  Jose  Maria  Flores,  so  called  because  in 
1837  he  was  a  servant  of  a  gentleman  of  that  name 
who  presented  a  petition  to  the  general  government 
for  the  purpose  of  retaining  for  the  town  of  San  Josd 
certain  tracts  of  land,  which  persons  belonging  to 
other  parts  of  the  state  were  trying  to  get  possession 
of.  Indian  Flores,  as  soon  as  I  addressed  him,  cx- 
j)ressed  his  willingness  to  give  me  all  the  information 
ho  could.  Before  proceeding  he  observed :  'You  will 
liavc  to  send  for  a  bottle  of  strong  whiskey;  nothing 
like  good  liquor  to  refresh  the  memory  of  an  Indian  1' 
I  took  the  hint  and  gave  a  boy  two  dollars,  with  in- 
structions to  fetch  immediately  a  bottle  of  whiskey  for 
T'nc'o  .['"lores." 

Thii:  he  Italian's  narrative  rattles  along  from  one 
t]ii;inr  to  another,  just  like  the  author,  with  scarcely 
Ijaube  or  period.  The  aged  aboriginal  Flores  gives 
him  some  interesting  gossip  respecting  early  times; 
then  Vallejo  Pix'ives,  and  the  two  generals  visit  the 
'host  house  in  Santa  Claia,'  whose  proprietor  had 
in  some  way  evidently  ruffled  the  consul-general's 
plumes. 

The  widow  of  Luis  Antonio  Arguello,  and  mother 
of  the  burner  of  the  family  archives  against  whom 
Cerruti  had  taken  a  violent  dislike,  received  General 
Vallejo  vith  opt;n  arms,  and  invited  the  two  generals 
to  dine  with  h<  r.  The  invitation  was  accepted.  The 
paper- burnci  v/i»>  there,  watching  the  visitors  very 
•  loscly.  "V^,  hrn  dmner  was  nearly  over,  Cerruti,  who 
was  so  fillod  w  (til  wrath  toward  the  four-eyed  Ar- 
guello, as  he  ccl;  d  ^im,  that  he  found  little  place  for 
food,  exclaimed: 

"Madame  ArgUello,  yesterday  I  asked  your  eldest 
sou  to  allow  me  to  copy  the  family  archives;  but  he 
assured  me  that  the  archives  and  every  other  docu- 
nieut  of  early  days  had  been  burned  by  his  orders. 
Cai)  it  be  »  ossible?" 

"Indei^i  .  ir,  I  am  sorry  to  say  that  it  is  true,"  she 
replied.     '■ }  A  as  she  called  to  witness  the  blessed 


'.    i 


'Hi 


!:;!! 


-Hi 


406 


ITALIAN  STRATEGY. 


virgin,"  continued  Cerruti,  "I  felt  convinced  that  sucli 
was  the  case." 

The  two  generals  called  on  several  of  the  old  resi- 
dents in  that  vicinity,  among  them  Captain  Fer- 
nandez, who  freely  gave  all  the  documents  in  his 
possession,  and  furnished  a  valuable  dictation.  Cap- 
tain West,  on  Avhom  they  next  called,  at  their  request 
sent  out  to  Lick's  mills  and  brought  in  the  aboriijinal 
Marcelo,  who  laid  claim  to  one  hundred  and  twenty 
years  of  this  life. 

Gradually  working  south,  the  two  generals  did  not 
stop  until  they  Li  reached  Monterey.  To  the  elder 
there  was  no  spob  lie  country  so  pregnant  with 

historical  events  as  Is  early  capital  of  California. 
There  was  no  important  town  so  little  changed  liy 
time  and  the  inroads  of  a  dominant  race  as  Monterey. 
There  General  Vallejo  was  at  once  thrown  back  into 
his  past.  Every  man  and  woman  was  a  volume  of 
unstrained  facts;  hedges  and  thickets  bristled  with  in- 
telligence; houses,  fences,  streets,  and  even  the  stones 
in  them,  each  had  its  tale  to  tell.  The  crows  cawid 
history ;  the  cattle  bellowed  it,  and  the  sweet  sea  saDg 
it.  An  interesting  chapter  could  easily  be  written  on 
Cerruti's  report  of  what  he  and  General  Vallejo  saw 
and  did  during  this  visit  to  Monterey;  but  ouier  affairs 
equally  pressing  claim  our  attention. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

ALVARADO     AND     CASTRO. 

God  made  man  to  go  by  motives,  and  he  will  not  go  without  them, 
any  more  than  a  boat  without  steam  or  a  balloon  without  gas. 

Beecher, 

Next  among  the  Hispano-Californians  in  historical 
importance  to  Mariano  G.  Vallejo  stood  his  nephew 
Juan  B.  Alvarado,  governor  of  Cahfornia  from  1836 
to  1842.  At  the  time  of  which  I  speak  he  lived  in  a 
plain  and  quiet  way  at  San  Pablo,  a  small  retired 
town  on  the  eastern  side  of  San  Francisco  bav.  In 
l)uild  and  bearing  he  reminded  one  of  the  first 
Napoleon.  He  was  a  strong  man,  mentally  and  physi- 
cally. Of  medium  stature,  his  frame  was  compact, 
and  well  forward  on  broad  shoulders  was  set  a  head 
with  massive  jawbones,  high  forehead,  and,  up  to  the 
age  of  sixty,  bright  intellectual  eyes. 

In  some  respects  he  was  the  ablest  officer  Cah- 
fornia could  boast  under  Mexican  regime.  He  was 
born  in  1809  ,which  made  him  a  year  younger  than  his 
uncle  General  Vallejo.  Before  he  made  himself  gov- 
ernor he  held  an  appointment  in  the  custom-house, 
and  had  always  been  a  prominent  and  popular  man. 
His  recollections  were  regarded  by  every  one  as  very 
important,  but  exceedingly  difficult  to  obtain. 

First  of  all,  he  must  be  brought  to  favor  my  under- 
taking; and  as  he  was  poor  and  proud,  in  ill  health, 
and  bitter  against  the  Americans,  this  was  no  easy 
matter. 

Alvarado  had  been  much  less  Americanized  than 
Vallejo;  he  had  mixed  little  with  the  new-comers, and 

(407) 


I 


Y  I' 


408 


ALVARADO  AND  CASTRO. 


I 


I 


could  speak  their  language  scarcely  at  all.  In  com- 
mon with  all  his  countrymen  he  fancied  he  had  been 
badly  abused,  had  been  tricked  and  robbed  of  millions 
of  dollars  which  he  had  never  possessed,  and  of  hun- 
dreds of  leagues  of  land  which  he  had  neglected  to 
secure  to  himself  To  the  accursed  Yankees  were  to 
be  attributed  all  his  follies  and  failures,  all  his  defects 
of  character,  all  the  mistakes  of  his  life. 

Like  Vallcjo,  Alvarado  had  often  been  importuned 
for  information  relative  to  early  affairs,  but  he  liad 
given  to  the  world  less  than  his  uncle,  being  less  in  and 
of  the  world  as  it  existed  in  California  under  Anglo- 
American  domination.  Surely  one  would  think  so 
able  a  statesman,  so  astute  a  govcinor  as  Alvarado, 
would  have  been  a  match  for  stragglers  into  his  terri- 
tory, or  even  for  the  blatant  lawyers  that  followed  in 
their  wake.  The  same  golden  opportunities  that 
Vallejo  and  the  rest  had  let  slip,  Alvarado  had  failed 
to  improve,  and  the  fault  was  the  ever-to-be-anath- 
ematizcd  Yankee. 

Alvarado  was  a  rare  prize;  but  he  was  shrewd,  and 
there  could  be  but  little  hope  of  success  in  an  appeal 
to  the  patriotism  of  one  whose  country  had  fallen 
into  the  hands  of  hated  strangers.  We  had  thouglit 
Vallcjo  suspicious  enough,  but  Alvarado  was  more  so. 
Then,  too,  the  former  governor  of  California,  unlike 
the  general,  was  not  above  accepting  money;  not, 
indeed,  as  a  reward  for  his  services,  but  as  a  gift. 

Almost  as  soon  as  General  Vallejo  had  fairly  en- 
listed in  the  work  he  began  to  talk  of  Alvarado,  of 
his  vast  knowledge  of  things  Californian,  and  of  his 
ability  in  placing  upon  paper  character  and  events. 
And  at  that  time,  in  regard  to  this  work,  action  was 
not  far  behind  impulse.  Vallejo  began  to  importune 
Alvarado,  first  by  letter,  then  in  person,  giving  him 
meanwhile  liberal  doses  of  Cerruti. 

On  one  occasion  the  governor  remarked  to  the 
general,  "It  seems  you  insist  that  Mr  Bancroft  is 
to  be  our  Messiah,  who  will  stop  the  mouth  of  bab- 


A  GOVERNOR  TO  WIN. 


409 


l)lers  that  insult  us.  I  am  of  the  contrary  opinion  in 
1  ogarcl  to  this,  and  will  tell  you  why :  I  do  not  believe 
that  any  American,  a  well  educated  literary  man,  will 
contradict  what  the  ignorant  populace  say  of  the  Cali- 
fornians,  from  the  fact  that  the  Cholada  Gringa,  or 
Yankee  scum,  are  very  numerous,  and  take  advantage 
of  it  to  insult  us,  as  they  are  many  against  few.  This 
is  a  peculiarity  of  the  American  people.  To  these 
must  be  added  a  great  number  of  Irish  and  German 
hoors,  who  unite  with  them  in  these  assaults.  Were 
wc  as  numerous  as  the  Chinese,  it  is  clear  that  they 
would  not  dare  to  be  wanting  in  respect  to  us ;  but  we 
are  merely  a  few  doves  in  the  claws  of  thousands  of 
hawks,  which  lay  mines  charged  with  legal  witcheries 
in  order  to  entrap  us." 

The  24th  of  August  1874  General  Vallejo  writes 
Governor  Alvarado:  "From  the  death  of  Arrillaga 
in  1814  to  the  year  1846  there  is  much  material  for 
liistory.  I  have  in  relation  to  those  times  much 
authentic  and  original  matter,  documents  which  no 
ituc  can  refute.  To  the  eminent  writer  Hubert  H. 
Bancroft  I  have  given  a  ton  of  valuable  manuscripts, 
which  have  been  placed  in  .aronological  order,  under 
their  proper  headings,  in  order  to  facilitate  the  labors 
in  which  a  dozen  literary  men  of  great  knowledge  are 
actually  occupied.  That  part  of  the  history  which 
<annot  be  corroborated  by  documentary  evidence  I 
iiiysolf  can  vouch  for  by  referring  to  my  memory;  and 
that  without  fear  of  straying  from  the  truth  or  falling 
into  anachronisms.  Besides,  my  having  been  identi- 
ii'd  with  upper  California  since  my  earliest  youth  is 
another  assistance,  as  in  no  less  degree  is  the  record 

•  if  my  public  life.  What  a  vast  amount  of  material! 
Xo  one  has  spoken,  nor  can  any  one  know  certain 
iacts  as  thou  and  I.     All  the  Americans  who  have 

•  tared  to  write  on  this  subject  have  lied,  either  mali- 
ciously or  through  ignorance."  This  letter  was  ac- 
<<»nipanied  by  certain  questions  concerning  points 
which  the  writer  had  forgotten. 


410 


ALVARADO  AND  CASTRO. 


I 


? 


1'^ 
'i' 

I 


Governor  Alvarado  replied  to  the  queries,  corrobo- 
rating the  general's  views.  At  length  promises  were 
extracted  from  the  governor  that  he  would  write  a 
history,  but  it  should  be  for  his  family,  and  not  for 
Mr  Bancroft.  There  must  be  something  of  importance 
to  him  in  the  telling  of  his  story.  If  there  was  money 
in  it,  none  could  spend  it  better  than  he;  if  reputa- 
tion, his  family  should  have  it. 

So  he  went  to  work ;  for  in  truth,  old  and  ill  as  lie 
was,  he  had  more  working  power  and  pluck  than  any 
of  them.  All  through  the  autumn  of  1874  he  wrote 
history  as  his  health  permitted,  being  all  the  while  in 
correspondence  with  Cerruti  and  Vallejo,  who  werr 
similarly  engaged,  sometimes  at  Sonoma,  and  some- 
times at  Monterey.  "  Up  to  date,"  he  writes  Vallejo 
the  4th  of  December, "  I  have  arranged  two  hundred 
and  forty-one  pages,  in  twenty-one  chapters,  forming,' 
only  three  of  the  five  parts  into  which  I  have  divided 
this  historical  compendium." 

Indeed,  for  a  long  time  past  Alvarado  had  been 
taking:  historical  notes,  with  a  view  to  writinoj  a  his- 
tory  of  California.  These  notes,  however,  rcquire(l 
arranging  and  verifying,  and  in  his  feeble  health  it 
was  with  great  difficulty  he  could  be  induced  to  un- 
dertake the  work.  In  writing  his  history  he  displayed 
no  little  enthusiasm,  and  seemed  specially  desirous  of 
producing  as  valuable  a  record  as  that  of  any  one. 

"  General  Cerruti  asked  of  me  a  narration  of  the 
events  of  my  own  administration,"  again  he  says, 
"and  also  of  Sola's  and  ArgUello's.  These  matters 
are  of  great  importance,  and  taken  from  my  worlc 
would  leave  little  of  value  remaining.  However,  I  still 
go  on  with  my  labors,  and  we  shall  see  what  may  be 
done  for  the  petitioners.  In  my  said  notes  I  am  form- 
ing a  chain  which  begins  at  Cape  San  Liicas  and 
extends  to  latitude  forty-two  north,  all  of  which  was 
denominated  Peninsula,  Territorio,  Provincia,  or  De- 
2mrtamento,  de  las  Californias,  under  the  different 
governments  and  constitutions,  as  well  as  Nuevu  ij 


ALVARADO'S  HISTORY. 


411 


Vieja  California  and  Alta  y  Baja  California.  .  I  begin 
with  Cortes,  who  made  the  first  settlement  in  Baja 
Cahfornia,  where  my  father  was  born.  Afterward  I 
come  to  the  Jesuits,  and  these  expelled,  to  the  Domin- 
icans; and  on  the  settlement  of  Alta  California  in 
17G9  I  take  hold  of  the  Fernandinos,  accepting  as 
true  what  was  written  by  Father  Francisco  Palou  con- 
cerning events  up  to  1784  in  his  work  entitled  Au^/c/as 
de  las  Misioncs.  Thence  I  follow  my  chain  till  1848, 
when  Mexico,  through  cowardice,  fear,  or  fraud,  sold 
our  native  land  to  the  United  States.  In  order  to  jro 
on  with  this  work,  I  must  verifv  certain  dates  and 
references.  Finallv,  as  regards  the  frontier  of  Sonoma, 
that  remains  at  your  disposition,  as  I  have  indicated 
in  my  notes,  for  I  am  not  well  acquainted  with  the 
events  which  occurred  there  after  18;J4,  when  Fiijucroa 
sent  you  to  direct  the  colonization  of  that  section 
t)f  country.  There  you  had  for  near  neighbors  the 
Kussians,  and  the  Hudson's  Bay  Company,  and  were 
a  sentinel  placed  to  watch  that  they  did  not  cross  the 
lino." 

Every  effort  was  now  made  to  beat  down  Governor 
Alvarado's  scruples  and  induce  him  to  dictate  a  com- 
plete history  of  the  country  for  my  use.  Considering 
liis  age,  the  state  of  his  health,  and  the  condition  of 
his  eyes,  which  troubled  him  much  of  the  time,  he  was 
making  no  small  progress.  In  this  way  he  worked 
until  his  manuscript  reached  three  hundred  and  sixty-  - 
foiir  pages,  but  all  the  time  swearing  that  Bancroft 
sliould  have  nothing  from  him. 

General  Vallejo  then  employed  every  argument  in 
his  power  to  induce  Alvarado  to  take  his  place  in  this 
history.  "  Come  forward  and  refute  your  slanderers," 
ho  said,  "not  hang  back  and  waste  your  breath  in 
harmless  growls  at  them."  And  again,  "If  things  arc 
wrong,  not  only  go  to  work  and  endeavor  to  make 
them  right,  but  do  it  in  the  best  and  most  effectual 
way."  The  governor  was  several  times  brought  to  the 
library,  where  Oak,   Savage,  and  myself  might  sup- 


412 


ALVARADO  AND  CASTRO. 


plcment  Vallejo's  and  Cerruti's  efforts.  Finally  the 
general  so  far  prevailed  as  to  extract  the  promise 
desired.  Alvarado  also  lent  Vallejo  his  manuscript, 
and  the  latter  sent  it,  unknown  to  Alvarado,  for  in- 
spection to  the  library,  where  it  remained  for  some 
time. 

Cerruti  did  not  fancy  the  task  of  writing  a  second 
large  history  of  California.  "  I  wish  you  would  get 
some  person  in  your  confidence,"  he  writes  me  from 
Sonoma  the  27th  of  November  1874,  "to  take  down 
the  dictation  of  Governor  Alvarado,  because  I  cannot 
do  it.  My  private  affairs  will  not  allow  me  to  spend 
one  or  two  years  at  San  Pablo,  a  dull  place,  as  bad  as 
Sonoma."  Nevertheless,  Alvarado  insisting  upon  his 
attendance,  Cerruti  was  finally  induced  to  undertake 
the  work  on  my  permitting  him  to  rent  a  room,  bring 
Alvarado  to  the  city,  and  take  his  dictation  in  San 
Francisco,  I  paying  hotel  bills  and  all  other  expenses, 
besides  keeping  the  governor's  historical  head-quar- 
ters plentifully  supplied  with  liquors  and  cigars. 

But  this  was  not  all.  I  had  told  Alvarado  plainly 
that  I  would  not  pay  him  for  his  information;  indeed, 
he  never  asked  me  to  do  so.  He  would  accept  noth- 
ing in  direct  payment,  but  he  was  determined  to  make 
the  most  of  it  indirectly.  Twenty  thousand  dollars  ho 
would  have  regarded  as  a  small  sum  for  his  literary 
service  to  me,  measured  by  money;  hence  all  I  could 
do  for  him  must  be  insignificant  as  compared  with  my 
oblijjation. 

Again  on  the  Uth  of  December  1874  Cerruti 
writes  from  Sonoma:  "With  reference  to  Goveinor 
Alvarado  I  beg  to  observe  that  I  did  not  think  it 
worth  while  to  cajole  him.  In  my  letter  of  October 
20th  I  expressed  myself  to  the  effect  that  I  did  not 
think  it  worth  while  to  spend  five  or  six  tliousand 
dollars  to  get  his  dictation;  because,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  the  notes  referring  to  Lower  California,  written 
by  his  father,  and  a  few  mcidents  which  transpired  at 
Monterey  while  General  Vallejo  was  absent  from  that 


THE  BEGINNING  OF  REQUESTS. 


413 


place,  the  whole  of  California's  history  will  be  fully 
(Anibodicd  in  the  Recuerdos  Ilistdricos  of  General 
Yallejo,  and  I  did  not  see  why  you  should  wish  for 
Governor  Alvarado's  dictation.  Such  were  my  views 
on  the  24th  of  October;  but  owing  to  a  letter  re- 
ceived afterward,  and  the  wish  often  expressed  by 
General  Vallejo  that  I  should  maintain  friendly  re- 
lations with  Governor  Alvarado,  I  corresponded  with 
liim  till  the  receipt  of  the  letter  whicli  I  forwarded 
to  you  last  Wednesday.  Since  then  I  have  abstained 
from  writing,  for  I  did  not  know  wliat  to  write.  You 
will  not  miss  Alvarado's  notes  on  Lower  California, 
because  General  Vallejo  has  already  written  to  Lower 
California  to  Mr  Gilbert,  and  I  have  no  doubt  that 
he  will  get  many  documents  from  him." 

The  fact  was,  as  I  have  said,  Ccrruti  did  not  covet 
the  task  of  writing  to  Alvarado's  dictation,  and  Gen- 
eral Vallejo  could  be  easily  reconciled  to  the  omission 
of  a  record  which  might  tend  in  his  opinion  to  lessen 
the  importance  of  his  own.  In  regard  to  Alvarado's 
history  Mr  Oak  thought  differently,  as  the  following 
reference  in  Cerruti's  letter  will  show : 

"I  do  not  look  at  the  matter  of  Governor  Alvarado 
as  you  do,"  he  writes  Cerruti  the  24th  of  October. 
"I  think  we  ought  to  have  his  dictation  at  some  time, 
even  if  it  is  a  repetition  of  what  General  Vallejo 
writes.  But  perhaps  it  is  as  well  that  you  have  de- 
clined the  invitation  to  San  Pablo  for  the  present,  for 
General  Vallejo's  dictation  is  certainly  more  important 
than  all  else.  Besides,  Mr  Bancroft  will  be  here 
during  the  coming  week,  and  can  then  himself  decide 
the  matter." 

At  this  juncture  came  a  request  from  Alvarado. 
He  had  a  boy  for  whom  he  wished  to  find  employment 
in  the  store.  Anxious  to  obtain  his  history,  I  was  ready 
to  do  anything  which  he  might  reasonably  or  even 
unreasonably  ask.  Alvarado  wrote  Vallejo  requesting 
his  influence  with  me  on  behalf  of  his  son.  As  soon 
as  their  wishes  were  made  known  to  me  by  Cerruti 


11 


414 


ALVAKADO  AND  CASTUO. 


I  sent  for  the  youn<^  man,  and  he  waa  assigned  a  place 
in  the  pubhshing  house. 

The  boy  was  nineteen  years  of  age,  and  had  about 
as  much  of  an  idea  of  business,  and  of  applying  him- 
self to  it,  as  a  gray  scjuirrel.  The  manager  endeavored 
to  explain  to  him  somewhat  the  nature  of  the  life  now 
before  him.  Success  would  depend  entirely  upon  him- 
self. The  house  could  not  make  a  man  of  him ;  all  it 
could  do  was  to  give  him  an  opportunity  of  makiiig  u 
man  of  himself  At  first,  of  course,  knowing  nothiiio- 
of  liusiness,  his  services  would  be  worth  but  little  tn 
the  business.  As  at  school,  a  year  or  two  would  Ix- 
occupied  in  learning  the  rudiments,  and  much  time 
would  bo  occupied  in  teaching.  For  such  business 
tuition  no  charge  was  made;  in  fact  the  firm  would 
pay  him  a  small  salary  from  the  beginning.  The  lad 
was  bright  and  intelligent,  and  seemed  to  comprehend 
the  situation,  expressing  himself  as  satisfied  with  what 
I  had  done  for  him. 

A  few  days  afterward  I  learned  that  the  boy  was 
back  at  San  Pablo,  and  that  a  general  howl  had  been 
raised  among  his  countrymen  on  account  of  alleg(3d 
hard  trcatinciit  of  the  boy  by  the  house:  in  fact  iiis 
iKj.sition  luul  been  wor^e  than  that  of  a  Chinaman,  lie 
was  made  to  work,  to  wait  on  people  like  a  servant, 
to  pack  boxes,  fold  papers,  and  carry  bundles.  As  a 
matter  of  course  the  old  governor  was  very  angry. 

I  was  greatly  chagrined,  for  I  feared  all  was  now- 
lost  with  Alvarado.  Instituting  inquiries  into  the 
boy's  case,  I  learned  that  in  view  of  the  governors 
attitude  toward  the  librar}',  and  the  little  need  for 
the  boy's  services,  he  had  been  assigned  a  very  easy 
place,  and  treated  with  every  courtesy.  Unluckily 
some  ragamuffin  from  the  printing-office,  meeting  him 
on  the  stairs  soon  after  he  began  work,  called  out  to 
liim: 

"  I  say,  gallinipper,  how  much  d'ye  git  ?" 

"  Twenty  dollars  a  month." 

"  You  don't  say;  a  Chinaman  gits  more'n  that." 


MANUEL  CASTHO. 


415 


That  was  enough.  The  boy  immediately  wrote  \m 
fatlier  that  the  manayfer  of  the  Bancroft  establishment 

1  •  •     • 

had  assigned  him  a  position  beneath  that  of  a  Mon- 
j^folian.  It  was  the  old  story  of  race  persecution.  All 
t  he  people  of  the  United  States  had  conspired  to  crush 
the  native  Californians,  and  this  was  but  another  in- 
stance of  it.  Young  Alvarado  was  immediately  ordered 
liome;  he  should  not  remain  another  moment  where 
lie  was  so  treated. 

It  required  the  utmost  efforts  of  Vallejo  and  Cer- 
ruti  to  smooth  the  ruffled  pride  of  the  governor.  A 
happier  illustration  of  the  irrational  puerility  of  these 
isolated  ancients  could  not  be  invented. 


Among  the  copyists  upon  the  Vallejo  documents, 
before  that  collection  was  given  to  the  library,  ^vas 
one  Soberanes,  a  relative  of  Vallejo.  At  the  request 
of  the  general  his  services  were  retained  afti  :■  the 
donation  of  the  documents,  though  all  of  us  had 
cause  to  regret  such  further  engagement,  as  he  was 
constantly  getting  himself  and  others  into  hot  water. 

Of  all  the  early  Californians  we  had  to  encounter, 
^Manuel  Castro  was  among  the  worst  to  deal  with  in 
regard  to  his  material.  He  had  both  documents  and 
iiil'ormation  which  he  wished  to  sell  for  money.  He 
was  an  important  personage,  but  instead  of  manfully 
asserting  his  position,  he  professed  patriotism,  love  of 
literature,  and  everything  that  any  one  else  professed. 
Finding  that  he  could  not  extort  money  from  me,  and 
being  really  desirous  of  appearing  properly  in  history, 
he  promised  me  faithfully  and  repeatedly  all  that  he 
had. 

But  diplomacy  was  so  natural  to  him  that  I  doubt 
if  it  were  possible  for  him  to  act  in  a  simple,  straight- 
forward manner.  He  began  by  borrowing  money 
with  which  to  go  to  Monterey  and  bring  me  his  docu- 
ments. He  neither  redeemed  his  promise  nor  returned 
the  money.    Some  time  afterward  he  went  for  them. 


416 


ALVARADO  AND  CASTRO. 


I 

I 


; ').:: 


but  said  that  he  could  not  deliver  them,  for  they  were 
required  in  the  dictation  which  he  now  professed  to 
be  desirous  of  making. 

"  Manuel  Castro  came  last  nigrht  to  Monterey, " 
Cerruti  writes  the  16th  of  February  1875,  "got  tlio 
box  of  documents  which  his  family  has  been  collect- 
ing during  the  last  six  months,  and  early  this  morning 
returned  to  San  Francisco.  If  you  want  his  docu- 
ments don't  lose  sight  of  him;  Savage  knows  when- 
he  lives.  Of  course  lie  is  *on  the  spec. 'I  Should  you 
have  to  pay  any  money  for  Castro's  documents,  you 
will  have  to  thank  Soberanes,  Eldridgc,  and  the  rest 
of  the  boys,  who  always  exerted  themselves  to  under- 
mine the  plans  of  General  Vallcjo  and  myself  " 

Manuel  Castro  now  sent  us  word:  "  Let  Soberanes 
arrange  my  papers  and  write  for  me,  and  you  shall 
have  loth  my  recollections  and  my  documents." 

Accordingly  Soberanes  lor  some  six  weeks  waited 
on  hill,  drawing  his  pa}^  from  me.  The  agreement  hud 
been  that  he  should  deliver  what  was  written  every 
week  as  he  drew  the  money  for  it;  but  on  one  pretext 
or  another  he  succeeded  in  putting  us  off  until  wo  wti  e 
satisfied  that  this  was  but  another  trick,  and  so  dis- 
continued tlie  arrangement.  Not  a  page  of  manuscript, 
not  a  single  document  was  secured  by  the  expeiidituie. 

lu  souie  way  this  SobiTanes  Ijccame  mixi'd  up  in  Al- 
varado's  att'airs.  I  believe  he  was  related  to  the  gov- 
ernor as  well  as  to  the  general;  and  he  seemed  to 
make  it  his  business  just  now  to  bleed  me  to  the  fullest 
possible  extent  for  the  benefit  of  his  countrymen  and 
himself  A'allejo  quickly  cast  him  off  when  he  -^aw 
how  things  were  going;  Manuel  Castro,  the  general 
openly  reprobated;  and  even  of  Alvarado's  venality 
he  felt  ashamed. 

While  in  New  York  I  received  a  letter  from  G<!nc>ral 
Valkgo,  dated  the  2Gth  of  September  1874,  in  which 
he  says:  "Cerruti  writes  me  from  San  Francisco  that 
he  is  very  much  annoyed  and  chagrined  that  after  lie 
and  niywelf  had  so  labored  to  induce  Governor  Alva- 


MISCHIEF  ABROAD. 


417 


rado  to  take  an  interest  in  your  work,  Soberanes, 
]\[anuel  Castro,  and  other  insignificant  persons,  went 
to  San  Pablo  and  sadly  annoyed  him.  Undoubtedly 
Ccrruti  is  right;  for  it  is  very  well  known  that 
(Icmasiado  fiiego  quema  la  olla.  Already  on  other 
occasions  those  same  intriguers  have  thwarted  his 
]>laiis;  and  he,  Cerruti,  is  fearful  that  they  may  also 
tlirnst  themselves  into  the  affairs  of  Central  America, 
and  cause  him  to  lose  his  prestige  in  those  countries. 
Day  after  to-morrow,  when  Cerruti  returns,  I  will 
icsume  my  labors  on  the  history  of  California." 

Tu  May  1875  Cerruti  writes  me  from  Sonoma: 
"(n)vcrnor  Alvarado  is  acting  very  strangely.  I  at- 
irilmto  his  conduct  to  Soberanes,  who  has  made  the  old 
L!,vntleman  believe  that  there  is  a  mountain  of  gold  to 
Itc  made  by  squeezing  your  purse.  I  would  suggest 
that  you  send  orders  which  will  compel  Soberanes 
to  deliver  to  the  library  the  pages  of  history  for 
which  he  received  several  weekly  payments  for  writing 
under  Castro's  dictation.  Thus  far  Soberanes  has  not 
(Ichvcred  into  the  hands  of  your  agent  a  single  line; 
aiid,  not  satisfied  with  what  he  has  already  obtained, 
lie  is  trying  to  cause  others  to  deviate  from  the  path 
of  decency,  common-sense,  and  gratitude.  I  would 
also  suggest  that  Alvarado  be  'sent  to  grass'  for  the 
piosoiit.  If  at  a  future  day  you  should  need  him  or 
his  dictation,  either  General  Vallejo  or  myself  will 
^^ct  it  for  you  without  cost.  The  conduct  of  Alva- 
rtido  and  Soberanes  has  greatly  displeased  General 
Vallejo,  who  as  you  know  thinks  it  the  duty  of  every 
nati\o  Californian  to  assist  you  in  your  noble  and 
.solt'-imposed  task." 

]\  Tatters  seemed  to  grow  worse  instead  of  better 
(luring  this  same  May,  when  some  of  these  mischief- 
niakers  told  Alvarado  that  his  history  was  at  the 
lihiary.  Then  came  another  convulsion.  Conspiracy 
was  abroad ;  the  foul  fiend  seemed  to  have  entered  the 
I listory -gatherers  in  order  to  hurl  destruction  upon 
the  poor  potentate  of  San  Pablo.    Although  not  a 


Lit.  Imd.    ST 


418 


ALVARADO  AND  CASTRO. 


word  had  been  taken  from  his  manuscript  while  it 
was  in  the  library,  nor  any  use  of  it  made  in  any 
way,  Judas  was  a  pure  angel  beside  me.  Alvarado 
had  telegraphed  General  Vallejo,  and  sent  messengers 
hither  and  thither.  Something  must  be  done,  or 
Diablo  and  Tamalpais  would  turn  somersets  into 
the  bay,  and  the  peninsula  of  San  Francisco  would 
be  set  adrift  upon  the  ocean.  The  absurdity  of  all 
this  is  still  more  apparent  when  I  state  that  the 
manuscript  notes  were  of  no  value  to  any  one  in  their 
present  shape,  except  indeed  as  a  basis  of  the  pro- 
l)08cd  narrative  of  events. 

Yet  another  agony,  following  hard  upon  the  heels 
of  its  predecessors.  I  will  let  Cerruti  begin  the  story. 
1  was  at  Oakville  at  the  time,  and  under  the  headiuL;- 
"Something  serious  and  confidential,"  he  writes  uk 
from  San  Francisco  the  7tli  of  April:  "Yesterday 
Governor  Alvarado's  dauohtcr  died  in  San  Rafaol. 
The  governor  desired  the  body  brought  to  Oakland. 
Having  no  money  wherewith  to  pay  expenses,  ho 
sent  Soberanes  to  the  Bancroft  library,  with  a  re- 
quest that  he  should  sec  you  and  if  possible  iuduev 
you  to  contribute  something  toward  the  funeral  ex- 
penses, three  hundred  dollars.  You  were  absent.  I 
ilid  not  think  it  proper  to  refer  him  to  your  jnaiiauvr, 
fearing  he  would  feel  annoyed;  so  making  a  virtue^  of 
necessity  I  gave  Soberanes  twenty  dollars.  I  act' d 
as  T  have  just  related  owing  to  the  fact  that  Gov- 
ernor Alvarado's  narrative  is  not  even  commenced. 
It  is  true  we  have  cm  hand  four  hundred  pages  of  !iis 
notes,  but  said  notes  only  come  down  to  the  )oar 
1  830,  and  he  has  signified  his  williuiiness  to  dictate 
what  he  knows  to  the  year  1848.  Besides,  the  small 
Incidents  which  he  remembers  are  not  included  in  his 
notes.  In  one  word,  I  consider  Governor  Alvaiado 
as  one  of  the  persons  you  need  the  most  in  the  writinuj 
of  the  history  of  California,  and  hence  my  reason  lor 
giving  him  the  twenty  dollars.  Of  course  I  don  t 
claim  the  amount  back  from  you.     I  know  full  v dl 


pes,  ho 


AGONY  UPON  AGONY. 


419 


T  had  no  authority  to  invest  in  funerals."  The  reader 
will  observe  that  Cerruti's  opinions  were  not  always 
the  same. 

Closely  following  this  letter  came  Soberanes  to 
Oakville,  begging  of  me  one  hundred  dollars  for 
Alvarado.  Now  I  was  not  under  the  slightest  obli- 
gations to  Alvarado;  on  the  contrary  it  was  he  who 
should  be  paying  me  money  if  any  was  to  pass  be- 
tween us.  He  had  done  nothiii<x  for  me,  and  iudixinsr 
from  the  past  there  was  little  enrouragement  that  he 
ever  would  do  anything.  Nevertheless,  since  he  was 
a  poor  old  man  in  distress,  I  would  cheerfully  give 
him  the  money  he  asked,  for  charity's  sake.  At  the 
same  time  I  thought  it  nothing  loss  than  my  due  to 
have  in  a  somewhat  more  tangible  form  the  governor's 
oft-rupeated  promise  to  dictate  a  history  of  California 
for  mo.  So  I  said  to  Soberanes:  "Alvarado  is  croinix 
to  dictate  for  me  and  give  me  all  his  material.  Would 
ho  be  willing  to  put  that  in  writing?"  "Most  cer- 
tainly," replied  Soberanes.  "Go,  then,  and  see  it  done, 
ami  Mr  Oak  will  give  you  the  money." 

Xow  let  us  hear  what  is  said  about  it  in  a  lotter  to 
me  under  date  of  the  19th  of  May  from  the  library: 
"llio  Alvarado  matter  is  in  bad  shajio,  like  everything 
ill  whicli  Soberanes  has  anything  to  do.  Governor 
A  Karachi  simply,  as  he  says,  sends  Soberanes  to  a>k 
ti»r  ono  hundred  dollars,  on  the  ground  that  ho  intends 
tho  liistory  he  is  writing  for  your  collection,  and  is 
in  liard  circumstances.  He  did  not  know  that  any  of 
his  maiuiscript  was  in  our  hands,  and  is  oflbndod  that 
<  ji'iuM'al  Valh'jo  and  Corruti  dolivorcd  it  to  us(Y)ntr:ny 
to  llioir  a/jfrcenient.  Soberanrs  tolls  vou  tluit  Gov- 
eriior  Alvarado  will  give  you  the  four  iiundrod  ]iages 
in  our  jtossossion  :  [there  are  only  two  hunch-cd  and 
^^ixTy-four  pages;]  tour  luuidriMl  pages  more  that  lit> 
Itas  written  :  [t]u!re  are  only  ono  Iiundrod  pagos  uunv :  | 
iuid  tliat  ho  will  sign  an  agi-ooniiMit  to  coin|th't(^  tho 
lii^i.orv  down  to  1848,  Soberanes  returns  to  Cr'n- 
eniur   Alvarado,   tells   him    that   you    consent,   says 


! 


H 


11 


i 


420 


ALVARADO  AND  CASTRO. 


m 


nothing  of  any  conditions,  tells  him  aU  he  has  to  do 
is  to  come  up  and  take  his  money,  and  brings  him  for 
that  purpose.  Governor  Alvarado  comes  to-day  with 
Scberanes;  is  first  very  much  offended  to  find  that 
we  have  any  part  of  his  manuscripts,  and  considers  it 
almost  an  insult  +o  be  asked  to  sign  any  agreement  or 
to  give  us  any  part  of  his  manuscripts,  which  he  says 
are  yet  only  in  a  very  incomplete  condition.  He  says 
he  will  do  nothing  further  in  the  matter.  SobcraiiLs 
declares  that  nothing  was  said  betAv'een  him  and  you 
about  any  agreement  whatever,  but  that  you  simply 
consented  to  give  the  money.  We  did  our  best  to 
make  the  matter  right  with  Governor  Alvarado,  but, 
of  course,  in  vain.  He  went  away,  not  in  an  angry 
mood,  but  evidently  thinking  himself  ill-used.  Sobor- 
anes  will  make  the  matter  worse  by  talking  to  him, 
and  making  him  and  others  believe  that  you  wisli  to 
take  advantage  of  Alvarado's  poverty  to  get  ten  thou- 
sand dollars'  worth  of  history  for  a  hundred  dolkus.' 

Although  what  Soberancs  had  reported  was  dclil)- 
crate  falsehood — it  was  about  the  hundredth  tinio  Ikj 
had  lied  to  and  of  mo — and  although  Alvarado  had 
acted  like  a  demented  old  woman,  and  I  had  really  no 
further  hope  of  getting  anything  out  of  hiui,  I 
ordered  the  hundred  dollars  paid,  for  I  fully  inteiidctl 
from  tlie  first  that  he  should  have  the  money,  aiul  I 
hoped  that  would  be  the  end  of  the  affair. 

But  alas!  not  so.  For  no  sooner  is  the  money 
paid  than  up  comes  a  letter  from  Lachryma  Montis, 
written  by  Cerruti  the  23d  of  May,  in  which  lie  says: 
"I  regret  very  much  that  you  should  have  given  nn 
order  to  pay  one  hundred  dollars  to  Governor  .\lva- 
rado.  I  am  willing  that  the  ex-governor  should  receive 
assistance  at  the  present  time,  but  not  under  the  cir- 
cumstances in  which  a  gang  of  unscrupuh)us  persons 
have  control  of  his  actions  and  are  using  him  tor  the 
purpose  of  putting  a  few  coppers  into  thi'ir  empty 
pockets.  I  fear  that  your  generosity  toward  Governor 
Alvarado  will  interfere  with  the  plans  of  Gtuieial 


THE  GREAT  PURPOSE  ACCOMPLISHED. 


431 


Yallejo,  who  a  few  days  ago  went  to  San  Francisco 
for  the  purpose  of  obtaining  the  documents  in  the 
possession  of  Castro.  That  person  made  the  general 
a  half  promise  to  give  to  him  his  papers.  But  if  he 
happens  to  hear,  as  he  surely  will,  that  you  have  given 
Governor  Alvarado  a  hundred  dollars,  in  all  certainty 
he  will  hold  back  his  documents  until  he  obtains  a 
sum  of  money  for  them.  There  are  many  people  yet 
wlio  are  in  the  possession  of  valuable  documents. 
Tliese  persons  in  due  time  will  be  induced  by  General 
Vallojo  to  come  to  the  front  and  help  you  without 
loiuuneration;  but  should  they  hear  that  you  pay 
money  for  documents  they  will  hold  back  until  they 
;,'ot  cash.  No  later  than  two  days  ago,  when  General 
Vallojo  was  in  the  city,  some  Californians  approached 
him,  and  tried  to  convince  him  that  he  had  better  give 
his  manuscript  to  some  publisher  who  would  agree 
ti)  print  the  work  immediately;  furthermore  they  said 
that  it  would  be  better  to  have  his  history  come  out 
as  a  whole  and  not  in  driblets  as  quotations.  The 
general,  who  has  a  good  share  of  sound  sense,  told 
those  persons  that  he  would  be  highly  pleased  to  be 
quoted  in  your  great  work,  as  your  history  would 
bo  in  future  ages  the  great  authority  on  Californian 
mailers,  while  the  history  written  by  him  would  not 
oariy  an  equal  weight  of  conviction." 

T  should  regard  these  details  too  trifling  to  give 
them  a  place  here,  except  as  a  specimen  of  every-day 
occiiirences  during  my  efforts  to  obtain  from  the 
Hispano-Californians  what  they  know  of  themselves. 
])V  allowinj;  Alvarado's  affairs  to  rest  awliih^  the 
testy  old  governor  was  happily  brought  to  see  the  true 
^vay,  and  to  walk  therein.  He  came  up  nobly  in  the 
•■ml  and  gave  a  full  history  of  California,  written 
hy  Cerruti  in  Spanish,  in  five  largo  volumes,  wliich 
IS  second  only  in  importance  as  original  material  to 
Aailejo's  history.  Part  of  the  transcribing  was  jier- 
forniod  by  Cerruti  at  San  Pablo,  but  as  I  before 
remarked  Alvarado  dictated  the  most  of  his  history 


422 


ALVARADO  AND  CASTRO. 


H 


I  ; 
1  ' 


in  San  Francisco.  It  was  written  anew  from  the 
beginning.  The  governor's  manuscript  notes  formed 
the  basis  of  the  complete  history,  the  notes  being  de- 
stroyed as  fast  as  the  history  was  written,  lest  they 
should  some  time  fall  into  wrong  hands.  This  was  tlie 
Italian's  precaution.  Taking  it  altogether,  Alvarado's 
history  cost  me  much  time,  patience,  and  money;  but 
I  never  regretted  the  expenditure. 

Frequently  about  this  time  I  invited  Alvarade, 
Vallcjo,  and  Cerruti  to  dine  with  me  at  the  Maisoii 
Doree,  and  general  good  feeling  prevailed.  Amoni,^ 
other  things  with  which  the  Hispano-Californians  were 
pleased  was  an  article  entitled  The  Manifest  Destunj 
of  California,  which  I  contributed  to  the  Sacramento 
Reccnxl-  Union,  and  which  was  translated  and  published 
in  a  Spanish  journal.  "  We  have  fallen  into  good  hands, ' 
at  last  said  Governor  Alvarado ;  and  Castro  promiseil 
unqualitiedly  everything  he  had.  But  this  was  while 
their  hearts  were  warm  with  my  champagne;  the  next 
day,  perhaps,  they  felt  differently.  In  writing  tliu 
article  I  had  not  the  remotest  idea  of  pleasing  any 
one,  and  had  never  even  thought  of  the  Californians: 
but  it  happened  that  they  were  kind  enough  to  like 
it,  and  this  was  fortunate,  for  it  greatly  assisted  me  in 
obtaining  material. 

It  seemed  impossible  all  at  once  to  sever  my  con- 
nection with  Soberanes,  the  follow  had  so  woven 
himself  into  the  relations  of  the  library  with  native 
Caliibrnians,  but  in  due  time  I  managed  to  get  rid  of 
him.  xVfter  General  Vallejo  had  presented  his  doeu- 
ments  to  the  library,  Soberanes  asserted  that  tlieit 
were  many  papers  in  other  hands  which  he  could  efet 
to  copy.  He  was  encouraged  to  do  so,  though  Cer 
ruti  was  jealous  of  him  from  the  first.  Soberanes 
did,  indeed,  obtain  many  documents,  some  of  wliicli 
he  copied,  and  others  were  given  outright  to  the 
library. 

Before  he  spent  the  six  weeks  with  Manuel  Castro 
he  had  obtained  papers  from  him  to  copy.     Castro  at 


CASTRO'S  LOFTY  TUMBLING. 


423 


firht  required  Oak  to  give  him  a  receipt  for  tliese 
papers,  but  seeing  that  our  enthusiasm  in  his  affairs 
Ix^j^an  to  decline,  he  followed  the  example  of  General 
A^allcjo,  and  gave  them  outright  to  the  library.  This 
fii'st  instalment  of  Castro's  papers  was  bound  in 
two  volumes.  The  copies  of  some  of  them,  which 
Sobcranes  had  made,  Castro  borrowed  to  use  in  court. 

Soberancs  then  obtained  more  documents  from 
Castro,  and  some  from  other  sources,  portions  of  which 
were  loaned  for  copying  and  part  given  outright.  It 
seemed  the  object  of  both  Castro  and  Soberanes  to 
make  the  information  and  material  of  the  former  cost 
me  as  much  as  possible.  It  was  when  Soberanes 
(iiuld  get  no  more  papers  from  Castro  that  he  induced 
liini  to  dictate.  While  this  dictation  was  in  progress, 
•  very  few  days  Soberanes  would  bring  to  tlie  library 
portions  of  what  he  had  written,  but  would  carry  it 
iiway  with  him  again,  on  the  pretext  that  it  way  iv- 
(|uired  for  reference.  Some  time  after  I  had  dosed 
my  relations  with  Soberanes,  Castro  sent  to  me  one 
IV'ua,  who  had  done  copying  for  me,  saying  tliat  he 
was  now  ready  to  continue  his  dictation.  I  told  Pena 
that  I  had  had  enough  of  such  dictating;  that  if  he 
chose  to  run  the  risk  he  might  write  down  whatever 
(  astro  gave  him  and  bring  it  to  the  Hbrary  every 
Saturday  and  receive  in  money  its  value,  whatever 
tliat  niiii'lit  be. 

Meanwhile  Cerruti,  though  heartily  hating  both 
Sobisranes  and  Castro,  did  not  lose  sight  of  them,  for 
Manuel  Castro  and  his  documents  were  most  important 
to  Iiistory.  Always  on  the  alert,  Cerruti  ascertained 
one  day  that  a  box  of  papers  was  held  by  Castro's 
liiKllord  for  room  rent. 

Ju  September  1876  Castro,  who  was  vice-presider^t 
oi"  the  Junta  Patridtica,  was  appointed  one  of  a  com- 
mittee to  collect  money  for  the  purpose  of  defraying 
i\\o.  expenses  of  the  Jiesta  on  the  glorious  Sixteenth. 
l>y  some  ill-luck  the  money  so  collected  dropped  out 
of  (Jastro's  possession  before  it  reached  the  object  for 


424 


ALVARADO  AND  CASTRO. 


which  it  had  been  given.  Indeed,  Castro's  pocket,  as 
a  depository  for  current  coin,  was  not  as  safe  as  the 
bank  of  England. 

This  left  Castro  in  a  bad  position.  Had  the  money 
been  donated  to  defray  the  expenses  of  a  funeral,  and 
failed  in  its  object,  the  cry  would  not  have  been  so 
great;  but  for  a  festival,  it  was  indeed  calamitous. 
As  a  matter  of  course  Cerruti  soon  knew  all  about  it, 
knew  that  Castro  had  become  bankrupt  while  carry- 
ing the  money  he  had  collected  for  celebration  pur- 
poses, and  that  he  must  immediately  restore  it  or 
be  forever  disgraced  among  his  countrymen. 

Rushing  round  to  the  library,  Cerruti  saw  Oak, 
and  expressed  the  belief  that  Castro  would  pledge  his 
documents  for  a  little  ready  money,  not  alone  those  in 
the  hands  of  his  landlord,  which  could  be  obtained  bv 
paying  the  rent  arrears,  but  also  others  which  wero 
not  in  durance. 

No  matter  how  simple  the  transaction,  Cerruti 
could  do  little  without  bringing  into  requisition  his 
diplomatic  powers,  which  were  ever  ovorflowiiij^. 
Thinking  that  possibly  Castro  might  be  prejudiced 
against  the  library,  and  might  object  to  his  papois 
being  where  they  would  do  so  much  good,  Coriuti 
told  Castro  that  a  friend  of  his  on  Market  strott 
would  lend  him  the  money  he  required,  on  the  docu- 
ments. This  friend  was  not  Bancroft;  indeed,  the 
person  was  one  opposed  to  the  Bancrofts,  that  being 
the  chief  reason  of  his  willingness  to  lend  the  money, 
so  that  the  documents  might  not   fall  to  the  Ubrary. 

The  lie  did  good  service.  Castro's  papers  were  «l< - 
livered  to  Cerruti,  who  straightway  took  them  to  tlio 
library  and  obtained  the  money.  Under  the  circuni- 
stancp«  Mr  Oak  did  not  feel  at  liberty  to  examine  tht! 
documents  or  to  take  notes  from  them,  tiiough  Ik- 
might  easily  have  done  so  liad  he  been  inclined.  11'; 
was  satisfied  for  the  present,  and  willing  to  await 
further  developments. 

Nor  had  he  long  to  wait.    Castro  soon  required  an 


CASTRO  CAPTURED. 


425 


additional  sum,  and  this  Oak  would  advance  only  on 
condition  that  if  the  papers  were  redeemed  he  should 
have  the  right  to  open  the  box  and  take  such  notes  as 
history  required,  without,  however,  retaining  the  orig- 
inal papers  or  in  any  way  injuring  them.  This  per- 
mission was  granted.  Wliether  Cerruti  now  told 
Castro  in  whose  hands  the  papers  were  deposited  is 
not  certain. 

Mr  Oak's  way  was  now  clear  enough.  First  lie 
took  out  all  the  information  I  required  for  California 
history.  Then,  long  after  the  time  within  which  the 
papers  were  to  have  been  redeemed,  he  consulted  an 
attorney,  that  he  might  act  within  legal  bounds,  and 
addressing  a  letter  to  Castro,  informed  him  that  the 
papers  were  in  his  possession,  subject  to  a  claim  for 
the  money  advanced,  and  that  altliough  by  law  his 
right  in  them  was  forfeited,  yet,  not  wishing  to  take 
any  unfair  advantage,  he  would  allow  him  until  tlie 
following  Saturday  to  redeem  them. 

Castro  was  furious,  and  talked  loudly  of  having  been 
swindled;  but  no  one  was  frightened.  The  fact  in,  we 
liad  lony  since  determined  to  leave  no  honorable  means 
untried  to  obtain  those  papers,  and  we  were  not  now 
(lisj)osed  to  stand  upon  ceremony  with  Castro,  or  to 
go  far  out  of  our  way  to  pacify  him.  The  documents 
and  information  in  his  possession,  by  every  right  of 
lienor  and  decency  belonged  to  the  library.  Not  once 
but  twenty  times  he  had  promised  them;  not  once  but 
several  times  I  had  given  him  money,  and  paid  out 
still  more  to  others  on  his  account.  All  he  was  hold- 
ing back  for  was  more  money.  I  think  he  always 
fully  intended  I  should  have  his  material;  but  if  ther« 
Mas  money  in  it,  he  wanted  it.  Besides  all  this,  Castro 
had  given  much  trouble  in  exciting  other  Californians 
against  me,  telling  them  to  hold  back,  and  the  money 
would  come  in  due  time.  As  often  as  lie  had  money 
to  buy  wine  he  would  entice  Alvarado  from  his  work; 
but  at  such  times  Cerruti  was  after  him  like  a  Scotch 
terrier,  and  soon  talked  him  into  a  state  of  penitence. 


I 


1 


h  ) 


ii- 


426 


ALVARADO  AND  CASTRO. 


Furthermore,  many  of  these  documents  Castro  liad 
obtained  from  different  persons  with  the  understand- 
ing that  they  were  to  be  given  to  the  library. 

In  view  of  all  this,  when  the  Castro  papers  wcro 
once  fairly  mine  I  cared  little  as  to  their  form(  r 
owner's  measure  of  love  for  me.  I  had  them  col- 
lated and  bound  in  five  volumes,  making  seven  in  i\\[ 
from  this  source. 

One  thing  more  remained,  for  it  was  apparently 
impossible  for  Manuel  Castro  to  do  good  except  upon 
compulsion.  The  dictation  for  which  I  had  paid,  and 
which  was  in  truth  my  property  wherever  I  could 
find  it,  was  still  closely  held  by  him.  One  day  it 
came  to  the  knowledge  of  Mr  Savage  that  Castro  had 
gone  into  the  country,  leaving  all  his  papers  in  tlu! 
hands  of  Felipe  Fierro,  editor  of  La  Vox  del  Niievo 
Mundo.  Now  Fierro  was  a  stanch  friend  of  the 
library;  and  when  Savage  explained  to  him  tlio 
nature  of  our  relations  with  Castro,  and  the  trouble 
we  had  had  with  him,  and  asked  the  editor  the  loan 
of  what  was  already  our  own,  he  could  not  refuse. 
The  dictation  was  copied,  with  many  original  docu- 
ments, and  returned  to  Fierro,  that  he  might  not 
suffer  through  his  kindness.  Thus  d  droit  ou  a  tori, 
the  gods  being  with  us,  the  whole  of  this  Philistine's 
material  fell  into  my  hands.  Several  years  later  lie 
endeavored  to  obtain  money  from  me  on  the  remnants, 
and  was  surprised  to  learn  tha,t  his  papeles  had  no 
longer  a  market  value. 

Jose  Ramon  Pico  furnished  quite  a  little  collection 
of  papers,  some  of  which  belonged  originally  to  him ; 
others  he  had  collected  from  various  sources.  There 
was  no  little  difficulty  in  our  dealings  with  many  of 
these  men,  who  seemed  most  of  the  time  to  be  in  a 
strait  between  their  desire  to  figure  in  history  and 
a  fear  lest  they  should  part  too  easily  with  what  by 
some  possibility  might  bring  them  money. 

With  Alvarado,  Cerruti  labored  in  fear  and  trem- 
bling.    Writing  me  the  9th  of   February   1876,  in 


THE  ESTUDILLO  FAMILY. 


427 


answer  to  a  request  to  attend  to  certain  work,  lie 
wiicl:  "Considering  that  I  have  promised  to  com- 
plete the  third  volume  of  Alvarado's  history  within 
eight  days,  I  cannot  possibly  spare  one  moment  i'or 
other  work,  because  Alvarado,  who  at  present  is  in  a 
working  mood,  might  change  his  mind  at  some  future 
time  and  leave  his  history  incomplete." 

Visiting  San  Leandro,  he  obtained  the  archives  of 
tlie  Estudillo  family,  accompanied  by  a  very  cordial 
letter  from  Mr  J.  M.  Estudillo,  who,  in  presenting 
them,  promised  to  search  for  more. 

I  cannot  mention  a  hundredth  part  of  the  dictations 
taken  and  the  excursions  made  by  Cerruti  for  docu- 
ments. He  was  very  active,  as  I  have  said,  and  very 
successful.  He  loved  to  dart  off  in  one  direction  and 
thence  telegraph  me,  then  quickly  transfer  himself  to 
another  spot  and  telegraph  from  there;  in  fact  both 
generals  had  a  great  fancy  for  telogray)hing.  Often 
(y'erruti  wrote  me  a  letter  and  then  telegraphed  me 
that  he  had  done  so — that  and  nothing  more. 


.     ! 


Il     t 


ii 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

CLOSE  OF  THE  CERRUTI-VALLEJO  CAMPAIGN. 

To  gather  in  this  great  harvest  of  truth  was  no  light  or  speedy  work. 
His  notes  already  nmilo  a  formidable  range  of  volumes,  but  the  croMTiing 
task  would  be  to  condunso  these  voluminous  still-accumulating  results,  and 
bring  them  like  the  earlier  vintage  of  Hippouratio  books  to  fit  a  little  shelf. 

Oeorge  Eliot. 

For  about  two  and  a  half  years  generals  Cerruti 
and  Vallejo  applied  themselves  to  my  work  with  a 
devotion  scarcely  inferior  to  my  own :  the  latter  longer, 
the  former  meanwhile  with  some  assistance  carrying 
forward  to  completion  the  history  by  Alvarado. 
Under  the  benign  influence  of  the  elder  general,  the 
quick  impatient  temper  of  the  Italian  was  so  subdued 
that  he  was  at  length  kept  almost  continuously  at 
confining,  plodding  work,  which  secretly  he  abhorred. 
He  preferred  revolutionizing  Costa  Rica  to  writing  a 
hundred-page  dictation.  Yet  I  am  sure  for  my  work 
he  entertained  the  highest  respect,  and  for  me  true 
personal  regard. 

But  after  all  it  was  his  affection  for  General  Vallejo 
which  cemented  him  so  long  to  this  work.  His  es- 
teem for  the  sage  of  Sonoma  was  unbounded;  his 
devotion  was  more  than  Boswellian;  it  approached 
the  saintly  order.  He  would  follow  him  to  the  ends 
of  the  earth,  cheerfully  undertaking  anything  for 
him;  and  almost  before  Vallejo's  wish  was  expressed 
Cerruti  had  it  accomplished.  Yet  withal  the  Italian 
never  sank  into  the  position  of  servant.  He  was  iis 
quick  as  ever  to  resent  a  fancied  slight,  and  Vallejo 
himself,  in  order  to  maintain  his  influence  over  him, 
must  needs  humor  many  vagaries. 

(438) 


WRITING  HISTORY. 


429 


It  was  not  a  little  strange  to  see  these  two  men, 
so  widely  separated,  both  in  their  past  actions  and  in 
their  present  ambitions,  fired  by  the  home  enthusiasm, 
and  that  by  reason  of  a  conception  which  was  not 
theirs,  and  from  which  neither  of  them  could  hope 
for  any  great  or  tangible  personal  benefit:  and  that  it 
should  last  so  long  was  most  remarkable  of  all.  In 
reality  they  continued  until  their  work  was  finished ; 
and  although  neither  of  them  had  been  accustomed 
to  continuous  application  in  any  direction,  they  labored 
as  long  and  as  diligently  each  day  as  natives  of  more 
northern  climes  are  wont  to  apply  themselves.  During 
th;:  years  1874-G  the  time  of  the  two  generals  was 
tlivided  between  Sonoma,  San  Francisco,  and  Monte- 
rey, and  in  making  divers  excursions  from  these  places. 

No  sooner  was  it  known  that  General  Vallejo  was 
writing  history  for  me  than  he  was  besieged  by  an 
army  of  applicants  suddenly  grown  history- hungry. 
[\\  a  letter  dated  Sonoma,  8th  of  December  1874, 
r'(>rrii^i  says:  "General  Vallejo  and  I  will  go  to  the 
<it>  next  week.  Historical  men,  newspaper  scribblers, 
and  all  sorts  of  curious  persons  are  daily  addressing 
Itittors  to  the  general  asking  for  information.  He  is 
roally  bothered  to  death.  I  enclose  one  of  the  peti- 
tions so  you  may  judge  of  the  style  of  persecution  he 
is  subject  to.  On  hand  one  hundred  pages  of  manu- 
script which  I  consider  very  interesting.  Mr  Thomp- 
son, of  the  Democrat,  is  in  possession  of  a  large  amount 
of  useful  information  with  reference  to  the  Russian 
settlements  of  Bodejja  and  Ross.  He  has  been  col- 
looting  material  for  ten  years,  during  which  time  he 
lias  interviewed  nearly  sixty  ancient  settlers."  Mr 
Thompson  very  kindly  placed  at  my  disposal  his  entire 
material.  His  sketches  he  had  taken  in  short-hand/ 
and  at  my  request  he  had  the  more  important  written 
out  and  sent  to  me. 

From  Monterey  the  6th  of  January  1875  General 
Vallejo  wrote  as  follows:  "General  (jerruti  and  I  go 


|5    5 


480 


CLOSE  OF  THE  CERRUTI-VALLEJO  CAMPAIGN. 


I 


on  \\Titing  and  collecting  documents  for  the  history, 
and  since  our  arrival  have  written  over  one  hundred 
pages.  We  have  many  venerable  documents,  which  I 
have  not  yet  looked  over,  for  this  dictating  and  nar- 
rating rcniiniscences  stupefies  the  memory.  Moreover, 
I  have  to  give  attention  to  visitors,  who  sometimes 
occupy  my  time,  but  who  are  necessary  when  the 
history  of  their  days  and  mine  is  written,  and  whom 
I  need  in  order  to  keep  my  promise  of  aiding  you.  I 
think  you  would  do  well  to  come  down  here;  for 
althoucfh  there  are  no  such  living  accommodations  as 
in  San  Francisco,  lodgings  are  not  wanting,  and  thus 
you  would  change  your  routine  of  study  life.  Here 
exist  two  barrels  of  old  paj)ers  belonging  to  Manuel 
Castro,  which  I  have  not  been  able  to  obtain,  because 
it  is  intended  to  profit  by  them.  However,  if  you 
show  yourself  indiflcrent,  it  is  probable  that  you 
may  obtain  them  at  small  expense — that  is,  provided 
Hittell,  or  others  who  take  an  interest  in  old  papers, 
do  not  cross  you.  INIake  use  of  a  very  Yankee  policy, 
and  within  two  months  you  will  be  the  possessor  of 
the  richest  collection  in  existence  with  reference  t<> 
upper  California.  In  the  archives  of  Salinas  City, 
of  whieli  my  nephew  has  charge,  many  documents 
exist.  He  Ims  promised  to  do  all  in  his  power  to  aid 
your  uncK'rtaking." 

An<l  again  the  10th  of  January  he  writes:  "I  hav<^ 
spent  the  day  in  inspecting  a  lot  of  very  important 
documents.  These  1  can  obtain  for  the  purpose  of 
copying  tlicni;  but  it  would  be  well  that  you  slionld 
take  a  turn  this  way,  in  order  to  sec  them  and  resolve 
the  matter,  (jleneral  Cerruti  sfiys  that  they  are  very 
important,  but  dc^es  not  desire  to  assume  the  responsi- 
bility of  copying  them.  In  every  way  it  seems  to  me 
in  acconlance  with  your  interests  that  you  exaniiii'' 
the  matter  in  person." 

The  Hartnell  j)npers  were  regarded  as  of  great  im- 
portance, an<l  General  Vallejo  could  not  rest  until  they 
were  secured  for  the  librarN'.      Hartnell  was  an  Eng- 


THE  HARTNELL  PAPERS. 


431 


lisliman,  who  had  coino  to  Cahfornia  at  an  early  date, 
had  married  an  liija  del  j)ai>^,  Teresa  de  la  Guerra,  by 
whom  he  had  been  made  twenty-five  times  a  father. 
l'\iiling  as  a  merchant  at  Monterey,  in  company  witli 
the  reverend  Patrick  Short  he  opened  a  boys'  acad- 
emy at  El  Alisal,  his  residence  near  tliat  place.     Ho 
was  appointed  visitador  genevcd  de  mmones  by  Gov- 
ernor Alvarado,  and  after  the  arrival  of  the  Americans 
'vas  for  a  time  state  interjjretcr.    He  was  regarded  b}' 
many  as  the  mo.st  intelligent  foreigner  who  up  to  that 
lime   had  arrived  on  this  shore.      Applying  to  tlu^ 
w  idow  of  Mr  Hartnell,  General  Vallejo  received  tlu^ 
inllowing  very  welcome  reply,  under  date  of  the  r»th 
of  February:  "Although  most  of  the  papers  left  by 
J)on  Guillermo  have  been  lost,  it  may  be  that  among 
the  few  which  I  still  preserve  some  niay  be  of  use  to 
thee.     But  as  to  this  thou  canst  know  better  than  I; 
|)i;i']iaps  it  were  well  that  thou  comest  to  see   them. 
The  [)apers  which  I  have  are  at  thy  disposal."    The 
collection  of  documents  thus  so  modestly  valued  and 
so  cheerfully  given  proved  to  bo  of  great  value,  and 
were  duly  bound  and  accredited  to  the  former  owner. 
Hearing  of  a  deposit  of  important  pa))ers  some 
sixty  miles  from  Monterey,  the  Gth  of  March  Cicn- 
"lal  Vallejo  sent  Cerruti  to  secure  them.     Nine  days 
later  Vallejo  writes  as  follows:    "To-day  I  send  you 
a  trunk  full  of  documents  of  very  great  historic  value. 
Do  me  the  favor  to  eliarge  your  assistants  not  to  o[.en 
it  before  my  return  to  San  Francisco,  for  it  is  neces- 
saiy  ibr  me  to  give  certain  explanations  l)efor(j  making 
you  a  present  of  its  contents.     Howevei-,  fi-om  this 
moment  count  on  the  documents  as  belon''in<''  to  your- 
self;  and  if  I  die  upon  the  journey,  make  sucli  dispo- 
sition of  the  trunk  and  the  papers  which  it  cont;iins 
as  may  soem  good  to  you.     The  young  man  IJivi'ii, 
whom  in  days  past  I  reconmi ended  to  you,  is,  1  heai", 
given  to  drinking;  but  I  also  know  that  ho  has  many 
ancient  documents,  a  trunkful,  which  belonged  to  his 
deceased  grandfather,  Ainza.    It  seems  to  me  that 


M 

iiii 


i 
I' 


I  „ 


i 


! 


43:2 


CLOSE  OF  THE  CERRUTI-VALLEJO  CAMPAIGN. 


some  diplomacy  is  necessary  in  order  to  secure  them, 
though  he  promised  at  San  Francisco  to  give  me 
them." 

Wherever  he  might  be,  Cerruti  was  unremitting  in 
his  labors.  The  29th  of  July  he  writes  from  Monterey : 
"I  enclose  an  article  written  in  the  Spanish  language, 
which  I  believe  ought  to  be  translated  into  Eiijrlisli. 
I  am  certain  it  would  do  a  groat  deal  of  good.  To-day 
General  Yallcyo  has  received  a  lot  of  documents  from 
Soledad." 

And  again  the  3d  of  August:  "Yesterday  we  heard 
of  the  existence  of  a  large  collection  of  historical 
documents."  Being  cntjaijjed  in  another  direction,  it 
was  resolved  to  send  a  third  person  in  quest  of  thcsi- 
papers  immediately;  and  a  few  days  later  I  received 
intelligence :  "The  envoy  of  General  Vallejo  left  to-tlay 
for  San  Luis  Obispo." 

While  the  warmest  friendship  existed  between  the 
two  generals  during  the  whole  of  their  intercourse, 
they  were  not  without  their  little  differences.  Often 
General  Vallejo  used  to  say  to  me:  "Cerruti  wishes 
to  hurry  me,  and  I  will  not  be  hurried.  Often  he 
solemnly  assures  me  that  INIr  Bancroft  will  nf)t  l>e 
satisfied  unless  a  certain  number  of  pages  are  written 
every  week;  and  I  ask  him  who  is  writing  this  history, 
myself  or  Mr  Bancrofts"  On  the  other  hand,  Cerruti 
in  his  more  petulant  moods  frecjuently  dropped  words 
of  dissatisfaction.  "You  cannot  conceive,"  he  v.  iit<s 
me  the  18th  of  August  from  Monterey,  "how  pleased 
I  shall  be  when  the  work  is  complete.  It  has  caused 
me  many  unhappy  moments  and  many  sacrifices  nt' 
pride."  On  a  former  occasion  ho  had  complained: 
"The  parish  priest  of  Monterey  has  brought  to  oui' 
office  the  books  of  his  parish.  I  could  make  a  gond 
many  extracts  from  them,  but  I  will  not  undertake 
the  task  because  I  am  in  a  very  great  hurry  to  leavi; 
Monterey.  I  am  heartily  sick  of  the  whole  woik. 
and  I  wish  it  was  already  finished.    This  town  is  like 


FROM  MISSION  SAX  JOSfi. 


488 


a  convent  of  friars,  and  the  sooner  I  leave  it  the 
hotter.  If  I  remain  in  it  a  month  longer  I  will  be- 
come an  old  man.  I  see  only  okl  i)e(>i)lo,  converse  as 
to  ilnys  gone  by.  At  my  meals  I  eat  history;  my  bed 
is  made  of  old  documents,  and  I  dream  of  the  past. 
Vet  I  would  cheerfully  for  your  sake  stand  the  brunt 
(if  hard  times  were  it  not  that  your  agents  have 
wounded  me  in  my  pride,  the  only  vulnerable  point  in 
my  whole  '^?ture."  Thus  cunning  spends  itself  on 
I'nlly!  Thus  follows  that  teed  lam  vitw  which,  like  a 
idcscope  reversed,  makes  this  world  and  its  affairs 
look  insignificant  enough! 

The  Italian  was  very  ambitious  to  show  results,  and 
fivqucntly  complained  that  Vallejo  insisted  too  much 
on  tearing  up  each  day  a  portion  of  the  manuscript 
which  had  been  written  the  day  before.  This  ]>resent 
iH'ort  at  Monterey  lasted  one  month  and  two  days, 
during  which  time  three  hundred  pag'S  were  com- 
pleted. On  the  other  hand,  three  months  would 
sometimes  slip  by  with  scarcely  one  hundred  pages 
wiitten. 

In  bringing  from  Santa  Cruz  two  large  carpet-bags 
filled  with  documents  collected  in  that  vicinity,  by 
some  means  they  were  lost  in  landing  at  San  Fran- 
cisco. Vallejo  was  chagrined;  Cerruti  raved.  The 
stciunship  company  was  informed  that  uidess  the 
papers  were  recovered  the  wheels  of  Californian 
atlhirs  would  cease  to  revolve.  The  police  were 
iiotijied;  searchers  were  sent  out  in  every  direction; 
the  otfer  of  a  liberal  reward  was  inserted  in  the 
daily  i)apers.  Finally,  after  two  days  of  agony,  the 
Inst  documents  were  found  and  safely  lodged  in  the 
liliiary, 

Notwithstanding  he  was  at  the  time  suffering fiom 
serious  illness,  Jose  de  Jesus  Vallejo,  brother  ol' (Gen- 
eral N'allejo,  gave  me  a  very  valual)le  dictation  of  one 
hundred  and  seventy-seven  pages,  taken  at  his  resi- 
dence at  Mission  San  Jose,  beguming  the  1 3th  of 
Ainil  and  finishing  on  the  22d  of  June   1875.     The 

Lit.  Inc.    28 


III; 


» 


434 


CLOSE  OF  TIIE  CERRUTI-V.\LLEJO  CAMP/IGN. 


! 


i : 


author  of  tills  contribution  was  born  at  San  Josd  in 
1  71)8,  and  in  his  hitcr  years  was  administrator  of  the 
mission  of  that  name. 

"The  priest  of  tliis  mission,"  writes  Cerruti  tlio 
1  Ith  of  April  1875,  "the  very  reverend  Fatlicr 
Cassidy,  has  kindly  loaned  me  the  mission  books. 
They  are  seven  in  number.  From  six  of  them  I  will 
make  extracts.  Number  seven  is  very  interestinn, 
and  according  to  my  opinion  ought  to  be  copied  in 
full." 

The  next  day  Mr  Oak  wrote  me  from  San  Fran- 
cisco— I  was  at  Oakville  at  the  time — "General  Vall(  jo 
came  to  town  the  last  of  this  week,  summoned  by  a 
teleijram  stating  that  his  brother  was  dying.  J[c 
and  Cerruti  imme<liately  left  for  Mission  San  Jose. 
Cerruti  has  been  back  once  and  reports  great  success 
in  LTcttiniif  documents.  The  chief  difficulty  seems  to 
be  to  keep  the  general  from  killing  his  brother  with 
historical  questionings.  lie  fears  his  brother  may 
die  witliout  tellinjj  hun  all  he  knows.  Cerruti  briii'>s 
a  book  from  the  ]Mission  which  can  be  kept  for  coj)y- 
ii\g.  It  seems  of  considerable  importance.  It  will 
nkdie  some  two  weeks'  work,  and  I  have  taken  the 
liberty  to  emjiloy  Piiia,  the  best  of  the  old  hands,  to 
do  the  work." 

Again,  on  the  1 8th  of  April  from  Mission  San  Jose 
Cerruti  writes:  "Besides  the  dictation,  I  have  on 
hand  n)any  tlocuments  and  old  books.  1  am  told  ihat 
in  the  vicinity  of  the  Mission  are  to  be  found  nuiiiy 
old  residents  who  have  documents,  but  I  al)staiu  Iroiii 
going  after  them  because  the  ti'avelling  expenses  arc 
very  high,  and  not  having  seen  the  documents  I  laii- 
not  judge  whether  they  are  worth  the  expense.  Aiii<  mi;' 
others,  tliey  say  that  at  the  ]\Iilpitas  rancho  lives  a 
native  Call fornian,  called  Crisostomo  Galindo,  who  is 
one  hundred  and  three  years  old,  and  is  supposed  lo 
bo  the  possessor  of  documents.  Shall  I  go  to  sec 
him?"  A  week  later  he  says:  "The  dictation  of  i )  ni 
Jos<5   do  Jesus  Vallejo   is   progressing  a  great  'Iral 


lii  f 


THE  LARKTX  POrUMRNTS. 


4r>j 


faster  than  T  liad  anticipated.  I  liav^e  been  with  liini 
seven  days  and  liave  already  on  hand  seventy  pages  ot' 
nearly  three  hundred  words  each." 

Thomas  O.  Larkin  was  United  States  consul  at 
]\iiinterey  when  (California  ft>ll  into  the  hands  of 
llie  United  States;  he  was  then  made  naval  agent. 
]}oi  h  at  Charlestown,  Massachusetts,  in  1802,  he  (^ame 
liithei-  in  18;V2  as  supercargo  of  a  Boston  trading 
\essel,  and  was  sul)se(piently  quite  successful  as  gen- 
eral merchant  and  exporter  of  luml)er.  ][e  made  the 
iiindels  for  the  first  double-geared  wheat-mill  at  ]\[oii- 
leioy  at  a  time  when  only  ship-cai-penters  could  be 
i'liuiid  there.  Wishing  to  take  a  wife,  and  as  a  prot- 
estant  being  outside  the  pale  of  catholic  matrimony, 
lie  went  with  the  lady  on  board  a  vessel  on  tlu) 
( 'alit'ornian  coast,  and  was  married  under  the  United 
States  flag  by  ,T.  C  Jones,  then  United  States  consul 
at  the  Hawaiian  Islands. 

In  IStf)  President  Polk  commissioned  hiin  to  sound 
t!ie  Califoi-nians  as  to  changi^  of  ilag,  and  during  the 
y 'aj-  following  he  was  active  in  his  exertions  to  seeure 
('alil'ornia  to  the  United  States;  and  for  his  fidehty 
and  zeal  in  these  and  other  matters  he  received  the 
thanks  of  the  president. 

Into  the  hands  of  such  a  man  as  ]\tr  Larkin  during 
the  eoiirse  of  these  vears  naturally  would  fall  manv 
important  ]xjpei's,  and  Ave  should  expect  him  to  l»e 
|Hissessed  of  sutticient  intelligence  to  a])preciate  their 
\  ahie  and  to  preserve  them.  Nor  are  we  disa[)|)(tinte(l. 
At  his  (k'ath  Mr  Larkin  left  a  lai'ge  and  veiy  valii- 
aiile  mass  of  <locuments,  besides  a  complete  I'eeord  of 
Ims  otheial  corj'espondenc(>  from  IS44  to  IS-l!>.  I'his 
It  I  .trd  comprised  two  very  large  folio  volumes,  after- 
ward hound  in  one. 

( 'hai'les  n.  Sawyer,  attornev  for  certain  of  the 
heirs  of  Thomas  ().  J^arkin,  and  always  a  warm  IVi(  nd 
<it'  the  librarv,  Hrst  called  mv  attention  to  the  ex- 
isteiice  of  these  most  important  archives.     He  had 


'  !« 


;!j^l 


I: 


436 


CLOSE  OF  THE  CERRUTI-VALLE.JO  CAMPAIGN". 


1,1 


! 

^^1 


inado  copies  of  a  few  of  them  selected  for  tliut  pur- 
pose, and  the  blank-book  in  which  such  selections  Ii.id 
been  transcribed  Mr  Sa\vye-r  kindly  presented.  Mr 
Jjarkin's  papers,  he  assured  me,  would  be  most  (llili- 
(;ult  to  obtain,  even  should  the  heirs  be  inclined  to 
part  with  them,  since  one  was  at  the  east  and  another 
too  ill  to  be  seen. 

Accom])anied  by  Cerruti,  I  called  on  !Mr  Alfred 
Larkin,  one  of  the  sons,  whose  office  was  tlien  on 
^[ei'chant  street.  I  was  received  by  !Mr  Larkin  in 
the  jnost  cordial  manner.  The  papers,  he  said,  wen; 
be3'on(l  his  control.  He  would  use  his  best  endeavors 
to  have  them  ])laced  in  my  hands.  As  tlu'  i-esult  nt" 
this  interview  I  secured  the  record  books,  than  whidi 
nothing  could  be  more  important  in  the  history  of 
that  epoch. 

Some  time  passed  before  anything  further  -was  ac- 
complished,  but  in  the  mean  time  I  never  lost  sight 
of  the  matter.  These  papej-s  should  be  plactMl  on  my 
shelves  as  a  check  on  the  Alvarado  and  A^allejo  tes- 
timony. At  length  I  learned  that  Mr  Sampson  Tanis, 
a  verv  intelligent  and  accomplished  o'lmtleman  who 
had  marrit>d  a  daughter  of  Mr  Larkiji,  had  full  jios- 
scssion  and  control  of  all  the  Larkin  archives.  .(  It)^t 
no  time  in  presenting  my  re(juest,  and  was  st'('ond(  d 
in  my  efforts  by  several  friends.  The  result  was  that 
with  rare  and  most  commendable  liberality  ^Ir  Tutus 
presented  mo  with  the  entire  collection,  which  now 
stands  upon  the  shelves  of  my  library  in  the  form  of 
nine  large  volumes. 

While  engaged  in  my  behalf  at  Monterey,  G'li- 
oral  Vallejo's  enthusiasm  often  waxed  so  warm  as 
almost  to  carry  him  away.  Shortly  l)ef<)re  the  sus- 
pension of  the  bank  of  California  he  had  thought 
seriously  of  going  south  on  a  literary  mission.  "•  I 
have  hopes  of  getting  together  many  ancient  dotii 
ments  from  persons  at  Los  Angeles  who  have  promisiil 
to  aid  me,"  he  writes  the  i;}th  of  July;  and  again, 
the  27th  of  August:  *'  I  assure  you  that  two  or  tlnvo 


VALLEJOS  KXTHUSIASM. 


437 


w  oeks  sinco  I  resolved  upon  tlie  journey  to  San  Dieijo, 
stopping  at  all  the  missions.  This  I  had  rosolvrd  io 
(1m  at  my  own  pr()[)er  cost,  uitliout  your  beiii^'  oMinod 
In  spend  more  money;  for  to  me  it  would  be  a  great 
jilcasure  to  give  this  additional  ]>roof  of  the  interest 
1  tid^e  in  your  iinat  work.  Until  vi,'sfi'i'da\'  sudi 
■\\;is  my  intention;  l)ut  this  morning  I  find  mysrif 
nhligt'd  t>  abandon  it,  on  account  of  the  I'aihne  (»f  the 
hiiiik  of  Cardbi-nia,  wliieh  renders  it  necessar}'  Ibr 
iiif  to  return  to  San  Francisco  in  order  to  aj-range 
my  iill'aiis.  1  liave  endeavored  to  j)ei-suade  Ceriiiti 
til  undeitakc  the  journey,  I  furnishing  him  with 
1.  (it  is  of  introduction  to  all  my  friends,  l^ut  he  lias 
ivfiisi'd  to  venture  into  deep  water,  until  tlie  condu- 
>-\n]i  of  the  I/isforlo.  do  diliforn'm  which  I  am  dictating. 
1  know  that  Cerruti  always  desires  to  avoid  expense 
without  some  corrcsponchng  benefit  to  yiturstlf." 

Thr  oiiginal  ])roposal  was  for  (;}eneral  Valhjo  to 
I'iiiig  ]iis  history  down  to  tlie  year  184(5,  the  en<l 
I  r  ^b'\i(•an  domination  in  California.  Writing  from 
Moiiterrv  tlie  'J"tli  of  Auuust  he  savs:  "]>\tlu'  ;>d  of 
Si]it('mbi.'r  I  shall  have  iinished  the  fourth  Aolunm 
nl  the  llistorid  de  California ;  that  is  to  say,  tlu'  whoh.' 
lii>toiy  down  to  184(1,  the  date  which  I  proposod  as 
ii-^  termination,  at  the  time  when,  yielding  to  your 
t  iilnaties,  I  undertook  to  write  mv  i'e(iollections  of 
1  lit' country.  Uut  in  these  latter  days  1  have  manau'ed 
1"  interest  (jreneral  Frisbie  and  other  im])ortant  per- 
s'WKigts  actjuainted  with  events  in  Calilbrniu  from 
1^1'!  to  1850,  so  that  they  agree  to  contribute!  their 
•  ■"iitingent  of  light;  and  1  havi-  i-esolved  to  bring  my 
liistoiy  down  to  this  later  date,  in  case  y(»u  should 
<l''iii  it  necessary.  It  is  my  intention  to  go  to 
^  :!lijo,  where  in  the  course  of  (hire  or  four  W(-eks 
1  tiiist  to  be  able  to  give  the  iinishing  str<»ke  to  my 
\V'  lis,  which  I  trust  will  merit  the  ajiiirubation  of 
Ni'Ursclf  and  other  distinguished  writers." 

"1  have  caused  C'aj)tain  ( 'avetano  Juarez  to  come 
to  Luchiyma  Montis, '  says  General  Vallejo  in  a  letter 


43S 


CLOSE  OF  TTIE  CERUUTI-VALLEJO  CAMPAIGX. 


■    I- 


from  Soiioiiui  dated  tho  4tli  of  Octobui-,  "in  order  tlinf 
lie  uiiiy  aid  im;  to  wi-ite  all  which  a|)|>ci"tains  to  the 
tvil  tloirigs  of  the 'Boars' in  184G-7.  Ca[)taiii  .Juan  •'., 
who  was  a  witness  present  at  the  time,  and  a  Irulhlul 
and  uj)riglit  m;in,  and  myself  are  eniL^a_L;*<'d  in  recallin  ;• 
all  those  deeds  just  as  they  occurred.  What  I  ri  Int.' 
is  very  distinct  from  what  has  been  hitherto  puhlisJK  il 
l»y  wj'iters  who  have  di'sired  to  rej)resent  as  hei-oes 
the  men  who  rol>l)ed  me  and  my  countrymen  of  our 
property.  American  autlujrs  desire  to  excuse  tlios!' 
robbers  with  the  [)retext  that  in  some  cases  tlie  '])e;ir' 
captains  o-ive  receipts  for  the  articles  of  which  thry 
took  forcible  jKissession;  but  as  those  receii)ts  were 
worthless,  the  Californians  liaNc  the  rij^ht  to  say  that 
the  ']>ears,'  <»r  a  majoiity  of  them,  were  robbers." 

War's  alarum  alwaj's  threw  the  mei'curial  a!i  1 
niettlesome  CeiTuti  into  a  state  of  excitement,  which 
lose  to  the  verge  of  frenzy  when  his  old  held  of  \r\- 
olutionary  failures  was  i\>y  scene  of  action,  llvw 
rumors  of  war  between  Mexico  and  the  United  States, 
which  Averc  of  frequent  occurrence,  were  usually  Ion 
much  for  his  eijuanimity.  I  remember  one  iustaiici' 
in  [)articular, while  he  was  writing  at  General  X'all.  jo's 
dictation,  in  November  1875,  news  came  of  serious 
tioubles  in  the  south,  and  he  gave  nu:  notice  that  lie 
should  be  obliged  to  abandon  his  work  and  lly  to  lli'' 
lescue  of  something  or  to  death.  I  re([uested  \\illi  j'* 
to  jtacify  him,  since  he  might  not  receive  my  opinion 
in  tlic  matter  as  wholly  disinterested.  Shortly  at'tci- 
ward  Ceri'uti  ix-turned  for  a  time  to  San  Francisco,  aii'I 
(leneral  Vallejo  wr«)te  him  there.  After  a  lengiliv 
and  llowery  review  of  their  labors  as  associates  duiiii^' 
the  last  year  and  a  half,  General  Valkjo  goc^s  on  to 
say:  "I  have  heard  that  tho  noise  made  by  the  press 
in  relation  to  tho  annexation  of  Mexico  to  tho  United 
States  has  made  a  deep  impression  upon  you,  and 
that  you  contemplate  going  to  soo  tho  world  in  thoso 
legions.  Believe  mo,  general,  el  ruidu  cs  mas  que  /">' 
■naeccs.     If,  as  is  said,  it  were  certain  that  war  be- 


A  MIGHTY  MANUSCRIPT. 


twccn  tlio  two  republics  is  about  to  break  out,  tlieii 
you  mii^ht  ^o  forth  in  search  ol'  adventures,  but  not 
otherwise.  Under  such  circunistanees  Jlexico  would 
play  the  rule  ot"  the  smaller  tish,  and  the  eonso(|Uen('e 
would  be  that  manifest  destiny  would  absoib  Chi- 
huahua and  Sonora.  It  is  necessary  to  wait  until 
what  is  ])assing  in  the  lofty  regions  of  diplomacy  be 
thsclosed.  ^ly  oj)ini()n  is  that  you  should  wait." 
A'alleio's  arLjuments  were  convincin*'':  Cerruti  aban- 
(loned  his  projttct.  The  j^^jueral  concludes  his  letter 
as  follows:  "To-morrow  J.  shall  k-ave  for  8an  Fran- 
cisco to  SCO  you,  and  if  possible  we  will  <j;o  to 
llealdsbui'LT.  I  believe  that  there  we  shall  harvest 
the  ])apers  of  ]Mrs  Fitch,  and  obtain  from  her  a  very 
i^'ood  narration  concerning  San  Diego  uiattei's,  its 
siege  by  the  Californians,  the  imprisiMunent  of  ('a[>- 
taiii  Fitch,  ]}andini,  and  others."  General  N'alli'jo 
came  down  as  he  ]>roposed;  the  breast  of  the  hero 
of  i)olivian  revolutions  was  rpiict;  the  two  generals 
proceeded  to  Ilealdsburg,  and  a  thick  volume  of  doi'U- 
niciits  lettered  as  the  archives  of  the  Fitch  family  was 
thereby  secured  to  the  library. 

Tlie  history  by  (ji-eneial  Vallejo  being  an  accom- 
plished fact,  the  next  thing  in  order  was  its  ])resenta- 
iion  to  the  library.  This  was  done,  of  necessity, 
with  a  great  ilourish  of  trumpets.  First  came  to  mo 
a  letter  which  I  translate  as  follows: 


"LACiinYiMA  Montis,  NovemWr  Hi,  ls7.'». 
"UnnF.RT  II.  B  N'CROFT,  Esq.: 

^' Etilvciiicd  Fritiid:  Years  ago,  at  the  nrj,'cnt  rcfiucHt  of  many  Calit'oniiaiis 
who  (U'siri'il  to  sec  the  deeds  of  tlieir  ancestors  convctly  f raiLsmittt'd  i.i 
jHistirity,  I  iindiTtook  tlie  pleasant  thon^li  aidiioiis  task  of  recording  my 
native  country's  history  from  the  date  of  its  .settlement  liy  ]*:ui'oi)eans  to  the 
}i:u-  jS.'iO,  when  our  tjalifornia  became  a  state  in  tiie  American  union. 

"Fortune,  however,  did  not  smile  ui)on  my  umlertakiTi;,',  since  my  maim- 
Kiii|>t,  the  result  of  Ion;,' and  careful  lalior,  was  destroyed  liy  the  llames  that 
on  the  l.'Uh  day  of  April  1807  consumed  my  residence  at  Sonoma. 

"Two  years  ago,  impelled  liy  the  same  motives,  with  undiminished  en- 
thusiasm for  the  work,  and  with  a  higher  idi^a  than  ever  of  its  importance,  I 
decided  to  recommence  my  task.  I  was  aware  that  a  soldier  narrating  events 
ill  which  he  has  ligured  oa  a  proniiucut  actor,  does  so  ut  the  risk  of  having 


1 


I 


liirll 


440 


CLOSE  OF  THE  CERRUTIVALLEJO  CAMPAIGN. 


11 


n 


Ilia  impartiality  questioned  by  sniric ;  and  what  made  mc  Htill  more  diffident 
was  tlie  conviction  tiiut  tiic  work  ttliould  have  lieen  dtine  liy  others  among  th»! 
uativd  Californianu  more  competent  to  disciiargo  it  in  a  Hutitifactory  manner; 
but  noticing  no  dispottition  on  the  part  of  any  of  them  to  tuiio  tlio  duty  otl"  my 
liands,  I  clicerfuUy,  though  with  aomu  miiigivingM  tm  to  my  uucces.s,  UHsumed  it. 

"Tlic  memoranda  of  my  resixicted  father,  Don  Iguacio  Vall»'jo,  who  canu: 
to  California  in  177-,  for  early  historical  events,  together  witli  my  own  recol- 
lections and  notes,  as  well  as  documents  and  data  kindly  furnished  by  wortiiy 
cooperators,  have  enabled  me  to  do  justice,  as  I  hope,  to  so  important  a  subject, 

"Friends  have  atbichcd,  perhaps,  an  exaggerated  vilue  to  the  result  of  my 
eflbrts,  the  manuscript  not  liaving  as  yet  fallen  under  tiie  eyes  of  critics  wiio 
would  pronounce  upon  its  merits  uninfluenced  by  friendship  for  the  authoi'. 
T  am  convinced,  however,  that  I  have  avoided  the  prejudices  so  apt  to  bins 
the  soldier  wlio  gives  a  narrative  of  his  own  career,  and  fairly  represented  tiie 
actions  and  motives  of  my  countrymen. 

"Though  I  held,  during  many  years,  a  prominent  position  in  California,  I 
deemed  it  proper  to  )nuntion  my  acts  only  when  I  could  not  possibly  avoid  it. 

"Personal  disputes  and  petty  differences  among  my  countrymen  in  tlic 
early  times,  and  with  Anglo-Americans  in  later  years,  I  have  touched  upon 
as  lightly  as  is  consistent  with  historical  accuracy.  I  have  no  wisli  to  con- 
tribute to  the  revival  of  any  national,  religious,  or  personal  prejudice;  and  it 
is  no  part  of  my  I'ylan  either  to  flatter  friends  or  abuse  enemies. 

"I  had  at  first,  my  friend,  intended  to  give  my  labors  to  the  world  in  my 
own  name,  but  liaving  noticed  with  mucli  satisfaction  the  ability  and  exact- 
ness displayed  in  your  work,  T/ic  Natiue.  liucc/i  of  the  I'ucijic  Slutis,  I  conclude  J 
to  place  my  live  volumes  of  manuscrii)ts  at  your  disposal,  to  use  as  you  may 
deem  best,  eoiilident  that  you  will  present  to  us  a  complete  and  impartial 
history  (jf  California,  having  at  your  command  the  data  and  documents  fur- 
nished you  by  the  best  informed  native  Californiana,  in  addition  to  all  tliat 
printed  works  and  public  and  private  archives  can  supply. 

"Your  work  will  bo  accepted  by  the  world,  which  already  knows  you  fur 
a  trustworthy  writer,  as  a  reliable  and  complete  history  of  my  native  liiul. 
Mine,  however  favorably  received,  would  perhaps  be  looked  upon  as  gi\  iiig, 
on  many  points,  only  M.  (!.  Vallejo's  version. 

"I  think  I  may  safely  aasert  that  the  most  enlightened  and  patriotic  por- 
tion of  tiie  native  Californians  will  cheerfully  place  their  country's  fair  fame 
ill  your  hands,  confident  that  you  will  do  it  justice. 

"In  this  trust  they  are  joined  by  their  humblo  foUow-countrymau  and 
your  sincere  friend, 

"M.  G.  Vallejo." 


To  this  I  made  reply  in  the  following  words : 


"S.AN  Francisco,  November  26,  187."). 
"My  Dear  General: 

"I  have  carefully  examined  the  five  large  manuscript  volumes  upon  whieli 
you  have  been  occupied  for  the  past  two  years,  and  which  you  have  so  gener- 
ously placed  at  my  disposal. 


LEITER  OF  ACCEPT AXCE. 


441 


"In  the  name  of  the  people  of  California,  those  now  living  anil  those  who 
bIi.'iII  come  after  tis,  ]M'niiit  niu  tu  thauk  you  for  your  uoble  cuntributiuii  to 
till'  history  of  tiiis  westuru  laud. 

"You  have  done  for  this  uorth-weateni  Bcction  of  the  ancient  Sixiuisho 
AiiiiTic.'iii  posscHsioiiM  what  Ovijdo,  Las  Canas,  Toniuemuda,  and  other  chrdii- 
irlir-i  i)f  tiic /nr//c^  did  for  tlio  New  W^rld  as  known  to  them.  You  hiivo 
8.i\'i'd  from  oblivion  an  iinnien»3  muss  of  material  deeply  iiitereHting  to  the 
II inlcr  anil  of  vital  iniiwrtanct;  to  all  lovers  of  exact  knouludgo. 

"Till'  liiistory  of  your  country  logins,  naturally,  witii  the  expeditions 
directed  north-westward  by  Nuflo  do  liuzman  in  I3',i0,  and  the  gradual  occu- 
|i.iti"ii,  (luring  two  centuries  and  a  quarter,  of  Nuova  Qalicia,  Nueva  Vizcaya, 
ur.il  till'  (.'alil'ornias. 

"'I'iie  deeds  of  (Ju/man,  his  companions,  and  hi",  successors,  the  dissistrous 
att(iM])ts  of  the  great  llcrnan  Corttis  to  explore  the  I'acitic  slioi'i.',  and  tlio 
spiritual  conquestrt  of  tlie  new  lands  by  the  Company  of  .Je.-iu.s,  are  recuriled 
ill  .surviving  fragments  of  secular  and  ecclesiastical  archives,  in  the  numerous 
origin.-il  i)aper.s  of  tlio  .Jesuit  missionaries,  and  in  the  standard  works  of  sucli 
aiitliiiis  iis  Moti  Padilla,  liibas,  Alegre,  Frejes,  Arricivita,  and  Ite.-iumuiit, 
or — oil  IJaja  California  esi)e(;iaily — Venegas,  Clavigero,  Baegcrt,  and  one  or 
two  anuiiymous  autiiorities. 

■'When  the  Franciscans  so  shrewdly  gave  up  Baja  California  to  the  rival 
oi'ilcr  of  .St  iJominio,  the  prize  which  had  fallen  into  their  hands  at  the 
ex|iiil.sion  of  the  Jesuits  in  17(>7,  and  took  upon  themselves,  two  years  later, 
the  conversion  of  the  northern  bariiariaus,  tlie  records  still  received  due 
iittiiitiiiii  from  I'ailre  .lunipero's  zealous  missionary  band;  and,  thanks  to  the 
ell'urts  of  I'adre  Francisco  I'alou,  the  most  importiint  of  the  dotiinients  iiuiy 
he  consulted  in  print,  together  with  a  connected  narrative  in  the  same 
aiitJiur'.s  life  of  .Junipero  Serra. 

'•From  the  period  embraced  in  Palou's  writings  down  to  the  incorjiora- 
tinii  (if  our  state  into  the  northern  union,  the  world  knows  almost  notliing  of 
<,'alif(iiiiiaii  history,  from  Califoniiau  sources.  Hundreds  of  travellers  frmn 
ilillciciit  lauds  came  to  our  shores,  each  of  whom  gave  to  the  world  tlie  result 
of  lii.s  observations  during  a  visit  or  brief  residence,  the  whole  constituting  a 
iiKi.st  valuable  source  of  information.  Most  of  these  writers  gave  also  an  his- 
t(jii( Nil  sketch;  a  few  read  Palou's  life  of  Serra,  consulted  some  of  the  more 
aot'i'ssible  documents,  in  state  or  mission  archives,  and  obtained  fragment^ary 
(liitu  tVoiu  native  residents;  the  rest  copied,  with  mutilations  and  omissions, 
the  Mdik  of  the  few. 

"All  those  sketches  were  superficial  and  incomplete;  many  were  grossly 
in.aicui'ate  ;  not  a  few  were  written  with  the  intent,  or  at  least  willingness,  to 
tk'(.'(ive,  in  the  interest  of  party,  clique,  or  section.  The  olfici.al  records  of  the 
Aii^'li-American  invasion  and  conquest  were  more  complete  and  accurate,  but 
it  iii('s(  nted  only  one  side  where  it  were  best  to  have  both. 

"1  desired  to  treat  the  subject  in  all  its  phases,  impartially  and  exhaust- 
ively ;  of  one  tiling  I  felt  the  need  above  all  others — of  a  history  of  >«pjinish 
and  Mexican  (,'alifornia,  including  the  Anglo-American  invasion,  written  from 
11  Hi  paiio- American  standpoint,  by  a  native  Californian  of  culture,  pnjiiii- 
iiiiit  ;iiiioiig  and  respected  by  his  countrymen,  possessed  of  sound  judgment, 


442 


CLOSE  OF  TIIK  CERRUTIVALLFJO  CAMPAIGJf. 


P 


II  lilicral  spirit,  an  cnthus<iiistic  lovo  for  liis  Buhject,  and  appieciation  of  iti 
iiiiportaiR'c.  'I'luHij  (puilitii'atioiiH,  (Jencral,  you  liavn  loii^  hfoii  known  to 
posMt'.i.s  in  a  iii;^h  iK-;,'ri'o,  an<l  inuru  fully  tlian  any  otlier  living  man  coultl 
liuvc  ilont!  have  you  HUppliuil  the  pivs.sinj,'  nwd  to  whicii  I  luivo  alludod. 

"In  the contiucst  of  Altu California  the  inLsHionary  and  the  Holdierniaii'lud 
Bide  liy  side;  hut  the  padres  for  the  most  jiart  had  the  telling  of  tlic  xtoiy, 
and  not  unlikely  claimed  more  than  helontjeil  to  them  of  credit  for  HueccHS. 

"Your  respected  father,  Don  Ignaeio  Vallejo,  educated  for  the  cliinrli, 
aliandoned  a,  diatastefid  ecclesiastieal  lifo  when  on  its  very  threshold,  insiiitn 
of  prospei;tive  priestly  honors,  and  came  here  to  light  the  liattle  of  life  wiili 
the  sword  instead  of  the  rosary.  From  tiio  first  he  was  identified  with  tlii) 
interests  of  (.'alifornin,  us  M'ere  his  children  after  him;  the  two  generatioin 
einliraee  all  there  is,  save  only  three  years,  of  our  country's  (innuls.  Ymii- 
father's  memoranda,  with  the  work  of  (iovernor  Pedro  Pages — the  latter,  l^r 
the  most  part,  descriptive  rather  than  historical — ai'o  nljout  all  wo  have  finin 
a  secular  jioint  of  view  on  the  earliest  times;  and  they  supply,  besides,  lun-^t 
useful  materials  bearing  on  the  later  years  of  Spanish  nilo  down  to  tlio 
time  from  whicli  your  own  recollections  date,  in  tho  rule  of  the  most  worthy 
Governor  I'ablo  Vicente  de  Sola. 

"Foi-a  period  of  thirty  yoirs,  from  1815  to  184o,  yonrwork  stands  without 
a  rival  among  your  predecessors  in  its  completeness  and  interest;  and  I  imili- 
dently  e.\[)ect  to  fiiul  it  as  accurate  as  it  is  fascinating.  Recording  huiidn  ils 
of  minor  occurrences  wholly  unknown  to  previous  writers,  yo\i  also  devuto 
cha|iterH  to  each  leading  event  hitherto  disposed  of  in  a  paragraph  or  a  iki_'c. 
To  sjH'cify  the  points  thus  carefully  recorded  would  bo  to  give  kii  n'yiuiii  tho 
aniuils  of  our  atiiti;;  snllice  it  to  say  that  in  your  pages  I  find  brought  lait, 
in  comparatively  brighter  light  than  ever  before,  tho  long  continued  stiiiL'^h) 
a,'ainst  aboriginal  barbarism  ;  the  operations  of  the  unwelcome  Russian  cuiic 
uists;  Captain  liouchard  and  his  insurgent  band  at  Monterey  in  181S;  news 
of  the  Mexican  independence  in  18'J'J,  and  its  efl'eet  in  California;  the  chiinuo 
from  impei'ial  to  constitutional  government  in  18'24;  opposition  of  the  pinlni 
to  republicanism  ;  end  of  the  pastoral  and  inauguration  of  the  revolutioii^ny 
period;  California  as  a  Mexican  penal  colony;  tho  revolts  of  Herreia  :iim1 
Solis  in  ]8'J8-0;  tho  varying  policy  in  Mexico  and  California  on  .'sciulai-- 
i/ation;  overthrow  of  Governor  Victoria,  and  tho  exile  of  unmauagcihlo 
padres;  the  colonization  'grab' of  Hijar  and  I'udriKi,  defeated  by  (luviinnr 
Figueroa  in  IS.'io,  and  saving  of  the  missions  for  other  hands  to  i)luniU'r;  ion- 
•juests  on  the  northern  frontier  by  Alfi'rez  Vallejo  and  Prince  .Sohiiio;  ili's 
uprising  of  Californian  federalists  against  Mexican  centralism,  and  the  th  w  ii- 
fall  of  governors  Cliico  and  Gutierrez ;  the  rule  of  Governor  Juan  B.  Alvaiiiilo 
and  General  M.  G.  Vallejo  from  1830  to  1842;  rebellion  of  the  south,  :ii]'l 
long  continued  strife  between  the  Arribenos  and  Aliajeflos;  the  gradual  in- 
crease of  overland  immigration;  aiul,  linally,  the  varied  events  of  a  still  later 
period.  From  184G  to  18o0  your  work  is  brought  more  into  comparison  "  ish 
others — a  comparison  which,  I  doubt  not,  will  serve  only  more  full  to  cuiihnu 
tho  value  of  the  whole  as  an  authentic  source  of  knowledge. 

"The  above  is  but  a  nmtilnted  skeleton  of  the  living  historic  body  en  atd 
by  your  pen.    It  la  not,  however,  as  a  record  of  dry  facts,  of  tho  successiuu 


I 
I 


SOIMARY  OF  CONTENTS. 


443 


uf  niliTs,  of  victoricH  over  iwolting  malcontents  or  gr ntilc  Tndinna,  of  tlio 
nets  of  j)iil)li<'  otliciiils,  that  joiir  writings  iniprcsH  ini'  iik  liaviii;,'  their  liijiliest 
valuu;  but  rather  us  iiicturts  of  early  Calit'ornian  life  uiitl  eliuracter.  'I'ho 
fiiiu;ti()ns  of  tho  skeleton's  larger  hones  are  not  more  iinportant  hut  rather 
|f«s  intcristing  than  those  of  the  eijniiilioateil  net-work  of  veins,  nerves,  aiiil 
inori' ilelicato  oryaiis  which  give  .symmetry  and  life  to  the  hoily.  1  notewitli 
jjlcasuro  your  cviili-iit  appreciation  of  tho  truo  historical  spirit,  which  no 
lipii;.;«'r  ignores  tlu!  masses  to  ilescril)c  thu  coniinonplace  acts  of  rulers.  Tliis 
ii|i|prcciation  i.i  clearly  shown  in  tho  vivid  pictures  you  present  of  life  amon;^ 
ill!  classes.  Rich  and  poor,  oflicial  and  private,  secular  ai-.d  religious,  jiudrc, 
nei>iiiiyte,  ancl  gentile;  soldier,  sailor,  merchant,  and  timug;;lcr;  tho  wealt'iy 
hwi mlailo  and  humble  rmifhero;  aristocrat  and  plebeian — all  appear  to  tlu! 
\  ii'u-  as  tiicy  lived  and  acted  in  tho  primitive  prc-gringo  times.  Besides  your 
ilclineacions  of  tho  mission,  presidio,  and  pucMo  systems;  of  secularixiitiou 
schemes;  of  agricultural,  cuinmercial,  and  in<lustriul  resources;  of  political, 
judicial,  and  educational  institutions,  wu  have  in  a  lighter  vein  charming 
rei'olkctions  of  school-boy  days  ;  popular  diversions  of  young  and  old  ;  the  in- 
door music,  dancing,  and  feasting,  and  tho  out-door  picnic,  race,  and  bull-linht ; 
icremonial  displays  under  church  auspices,  and  oHicial  rccei»tions  of  high  dig- 
nitaries or  welcome  visitors  from  abroad;  care  of  tho  church  for  the  weltaro 
and  morality  of  tho  people,  homo  customs,  interesting  incidents  of  social  life. 
Weddings,  elupinnents,  and  ludicrous  practical  jokes— tho  whole  constituting 
a  most  masterly  picture,  which  no  foreigner  has  ever  equalled  or  ever  could 
(■inal;  a  view  from  tiie  interior  which  none  could  paint  save  an  artist-actor 
ill  tlie  scenes  i>ortriiyed. 

"  I  have  to  thank  you  not  only  for  this  most  valuable  and  timely  gift,  but 
fur  .'-1)1110  fifty  large  f'jliij  voNtmcs  of  original  papers  to  voucii  for  or  corrcrt 
wliat  you  have  written,  as  well  ns  for  your  generous  interest  in  tho  task  [ 
have  undertaken,  and  your  inllucnce  among  your  countrymen  in  my  behalf.  I 
have  l«'en  able  to  procure  many  other  original  narratives,  written  by  native 
Califurnians  and  old  residents — less  exhaustive  than  your  own  contribution, 
but  still  very  important — together  with  thousands  of  documents  from  family 
Jiiciiives;  and  my  store  of  material  is  daily  augmenting.  I  am  grateful  for 
the  conlidinc(!  with  which  you  and  other  distinguished  CalifornLms  iiiti list 
to  111'!  the  task  of  transmitting  to  coming  geuirations  tho  deeds  of  your- 
selves and  your  fathers,  and  I  accept  the  task  with  a  full  realization  of  tlio 
resiHiiisiliilities  incurred.  Mj'  purpose  is  to  write  a  complete,  accurate,  and 
iiii|i.irtiiil  history  of  California.  With  access  practically  to  all  that  has  beiii 
M  ritten  on  tho  subject  by  natives  or  by  foreigners,  and  to  nil  the  papei's  of 
]iiililie  and  private  archives,  I  expect  to  sncceed.  In  case  of  such  success,  to 
iiciiie  of  tlic  many  who  have  aided  or  may  aiil  in  my  work  shall  I  bo  placeil 
uuiier  greater  obligations,  General,  and  to  none  shall  I  ever  more  cheerfully 
ui-kiiowlcdge  my  indebtedness,  than  to  yourself. 

"Very  sincerely,  Hubert  II.  Bancroit:." 


This  corrcsponclcuco  was  published  at  tlio  time  in  all 
<  1 H ■  kadinn;  iouriials,  of  various  laniruat>es:  after  wliicli 
lliu  sun  moved  ou  iu  its  accustomed  course. 


I 


CLOSE  OF  THE  CERRUTI  VALLEJO  CAMPAIGN. 

On  the  9tli  of  October,  1870,  at  Sonoma,  Eniiquo 
CeiTuti  killed  himself.  I  was  east  at  the  time,  and  the 
jjiiinful  inti'llij^xiiee  was  sent  me  hy  CJeneral  Vallejd. 
The  cause  of  this  deplorable  act  was  losses  in  niininL,' 
stocks.  For  a  year  ])ast  he  had  been  gamblinn'  in 
these  in-seeurities,  and  during  the  latter  part  of  this 
time  he  was  much  demoralized.  The  disgrace  atteiiil 
ing  failures  \vas  beyond  his  endurance,  lie  could  be 
brave  anywhei'e  but  thej'e;  1)ut  heroes  make  wry  laces 
over  the  toothache,  and  philosophers  gi'oan  as  loudK 
as  others  when  ti'oubled  with  }>ains  in  the  liver,  lie 
%vlio  is  tivuKpiilli/ed  by  a  tempest  or  a  war-truiiiint 
quails  before  the  invocation  of  his  own  thoughts. 

When  J  left  S;m  Francisco  in  June  he  atteudi'd  ine 
to  the  jerry,  and  was  outwardly  in  his  usual  health 
and  spii'its.  lie  continued  his  work  at  the  liliiui y 
only  a  i'rw  weeks  al'ter  my  de[)arture,  so  that  win  ii 
he  died  Ik;  ha<l  not  been  in  my  sei'vice  for  three 
months;  indi-ed,  so  nervous  and  eccentric  had  becinue 
his  bi'ain  by  his  speculations  that  for  some  tinu'  past 
he  had  been  totally  unlit  for  literary  labor. 

Ho  wrote  me  for  two  th(»usand  dollars;  but  his 
li'tt(>r  lay  in  Xew  York  while  ]  was  a,l>sent  in  the 
AVhite  mountains,  and  I  did  not  re"ei\('  it  till  too 
late.  The  amount  he  asked  foi'.  howevc'r,  evrii  if  I 
had  been  in  time  with  it,  would  not  lia\-e  saved  hiin. 
for  \io  owed,  as  was  afterwar<l  estimated,  from  lift' rii 
to  twent}' thousand  dollars,  lie  had  bori'owed  this 
money  iVom  his  friends,  and  had  lost  it  ;  and  his  i;ia- 
bilitv  to  pav  well  niiih  maddened  him.  lie  talked  of 
►suicide  for  six  months  previous,  but  no  attention  was 
paid  to  his  threats.  Just  l»efore  leaving  for  Sonoma  he 
l)ade  all  I'arewell  for  the  last  time;  some  laughed  at 
liim,  otluMs  olfered  to  bet  with  him  that  he  would  not 
do  it;  no  one  believed  him.  He  had  (piarrelled  and 
made  j)eace  alternati'ly  with  I'very  |ierson  in  the  H- 
brary ;  he  had  denounced  every  tViend  he  had,  one  aft.  r 
the  othei',  as  the  cause  of  his  ruin.  Then  again  it  was 
his  fate;  he  had  been  so  cursed  from  childhood,    llow- 


F.VREWELL  CERRUTI 1 


44S 


ever,  death  slioukl  balanro  all  aroonnts,  and  swallow 
;ill  dishonor;  thonnjh  his  friends  taiU'd  to  peroeivc  how 
;i  rliiwn  ac^ainst  a  dead  Cerruti  was  better  than  a  claim 
iij,.iiiist  n  live  one.  ()  man!  J*assin>j;  the  ('//(/  jiro  vita, 
i>  till'  I'est  nothiiiij^  hut  j)i-otojilasni  { 

\\'liy  he  selected  Sonoma  as  the  point  of  his  final 
(1(  parture  no  one  knows,  unless  it  was  for  dramatic 
otl'cet.  He  was  a  lover  of  notorietv;  and  a  tragic 
net  would  comiiiaiid  more  attention  there  than  in  a 
1,1  r^e  city.  Then  there  were  the  Vallejos,  his  dearest 
IViends — he  mi;4ht  have  chost^n  to  he  hnri. d  near 
tliiiii.  (iun)>owder,  too,  on(>  would  hav«!  tlioun'ht 
111  ;iier  akin  to  his  taste  than  drui^s.  He  was  fully 
('irierniiiHMl  to  die,  lor,  laudajunn  failing',  he  resorted 
tn  strychnine.  Awakened  hy  his  jj^roans,  th(>  hotel 
|ii'ii|tle  sent  for  Mrs  N'allejo,  who  tried  to  adniinisti'i' 
ail  .intidote,  hut  he  refused  to  ivceive  it.  The  coroner 
tcle^raphed  the  firm,  and  Mr.  Savage  represented  the 
lihraiy  at  the  burial. 

Poor,  dear  Cerruti!  If  I  had  him  back  with  mo 
alive,  r  would  not  give  him  up  for  all  Nevada's  mines. 
II  i>  i\-er  wel<'ome  pi-esence;  his  ever  pleasing  speech, 
i:h\  ill  its  harndess  bluster;  his  eve)'  charming  ways, 
t'axiiiatiiig  in  tlnjir  guileful  simplicity,  the  far-reach- 
wvj:  round  earth  does  not  contain  liis  like.  Alas, 
Oiii-uttil  with  another  I  miLrht  sav,  I  c(»uld  hav«i 
nt'tter  lost  a  better  man  ! 


1 


I'i 


'    H 


*^  t, 


111    '' 


I     ! 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

HOME. 

There  is  no  happiness  in  life^ there  is  no  misery,  like  that  growing  out  nf 
the  dispositions  wliich  consecrate  or  desecrate  a  lioint. 

Chapiii. 

I  ALMOST  despaired  of  ever  liavin;:^  a  home  a^aiii. 
I  was  ii^i-o willing  souiewliat  old  for  a  young  wife,  and  i 
had  no  fancy  for  taking  an  old  (tne.  The  risk  on  Ixitli 
sides  I  I'clt  to  bo  great.  A  Butfalo  lady  onct;  wiotr 
me:  "All  this  time  you  niiglit  ho  making  some  one 
person  happy."  I  replied:  "All  this  time  1  might  In- 
making  two  ])ersons  miserable."  And  yet  no  our 
realized  more  i'ully  than  myself  that  a  happy  marriagr 
doubles  the  resources,  and  completes  the  being  which 
otlierwise  fails  in  tlic  i'ullest  develo])ment  of  its  intui- 
tions and  yearnings.  Tlie  twain  are,  in  the  natuiv 
human,  onu;  each  without  loss  gives  what  the  other 
lacks. 

There  were  certain  qualities  I  felt  to  be  essential 
not  oidy  to  my  lia]»|)in(>ss,  hut  to  my  continued  littiai  y 
success.  I  was  so  constituted  by  nature  that  I  cdulil 
not  endun;  domestic  iid'elicity.  Little  cared  J  ibr  the 
woi'ld,  with  its  loves  and  hates.  wheth(>r  it  rogardcd 
me  kindly,  or  not  at  all.  I  had  a  world  within  im' 
whose  good-^\ill  I  could  connnand  so  long  as  1  was  at 
peace  with  myself  Jjiltle  cared  I  ibr  a  scowl  hiT* . 
or  an  attack  there;  out  among  men  I  fV'lt  myself  ('(|iial 
to  cope  witli  any  of  them.  J  hit  my  home  rmist  hr  1h 
me  heaviMi  or  hell.  There  was  no  room  in  my  in  ad 
for  discord,  nor  in  my  heart  for  Ijitterness. 

To  write  well,  to  do  anything  well,  a  light-intcu- 


HUSBAXI)  AND  WIFE. 


447 


tinned  liumnno  man  must  be  at  peace  with  the  one 
iii'Mit'st  liini.  AFjinv  a  time  in  mv  v<)un<>'(jr  mai-ricd 
lil'e  lias  a  cross  word,  (hojiped  upon  lur  I  loved  on 
IcavinLj  my  liome  in  the  moininuf,  so  haunted  me  whik; 
iit  my  husiness,  so  huzzed  ahout  my  ears,  so  lilmcd  my 
eves,  and  thumped  up<»n  the  incrustment  witliin  which 
1  had  wrapped  my  heart,  that  I  liavc  iUuvj;  down  my 
work,  nrone  hack  and  dispelled  tlie  oflenci^,  after  which 
1  iiii'dit  return  unti'oui)led  to  mv  husiness.  I  >rop  into 
the  lieart  a  sweet  woi-d,  and  it  will  perch  itself  and 
ii\\\\X  all  the  night  long,  and  all  tiie  day;  drop  into  tlui 
lieart  a  sliarj)  word,  and,  I'at-like,  it  will  .scratch  all 
iniind,  and  gnaw,  and  gnaw,  and  gnaw! 

Nothing  so  (piickly  dissij)ated  my  ideas,  and  spoiled 
;i  <liiy  for  \\'.i\  as  domestic  disturhances.  1  IkkI  h)ng 
since  accustomed  myself  to  throw  otf  the  ever  |)i-e8ent 
.'iiinoyances  of  husiness,  even  ]>lacing  my  literary  peace 
(if  mind  ahove  the  reach  of  the  money-wranglers, 
llul  :!i  niy  home,  where  my  whole  heing  was  so  di- 
rectly <'oncerned,  where  all  my  synn)atliit's  W(To 
eiihsted  and  all  my  allections  centi'ed,  deiangenient 
Were  fatal. 

Hence  it  was.  as  the  years  went,  hv  and  I  found 
nuself  <lav  after  dav  alon(>,  after  exhaust  ion  liad  driven 
iiic  from  my  wi'iting,  that  I  )'egar(led  less  hopefully 
my  ehanci's  of  again  having  a  home. 

"1  will  keep  house  for  you,"  my  daughter  used  to 
say. 

'  But  you  will  marry,"  was  my  reply. 
"Tlien  wo  will  live  with  you." 
"  I  would  not  liave  you." 
'•  Then  you  shall  live  with  us." 
"  '  I's'  I  shall  n(!vcr  live  with." 
•    fheii  I  shall  not  marry!"'  was  the  conclusion  com- 
ineiily  arrived  at. 

I  liad  sold  my  dwi'lling  on  California  street  for  sev- 
<r,il  reasons.  it  was  largi'  and  hurdensomc  to  ono 
sitn.ited  as  I  was  ]Mueh  of  my  time  I  wished  to 
^|i' ml    out    of  the  city,  where   1  would   he   removed 


§m 


HOME. 


t  J 


h' 


from  constant  interruption.  As  lonuf  as  T  had  a  lioiise 
I  must  futi-rtain  c'oni])any.  This  I  enjoyed  wht-n  tinio 
was  at  my  disposal;  hut  ih'ives,  and  dinners,  iind  late 
liours  (hssijtated  hterary  effort,  and  with  so  niudi 
h(  lori'  nic  to  he  done,  an<l  a  score  of  men  at  mv  h.iil; 
whom  I  nnist  keep  (•mph)yed,  I  could  take  little 
pleasuie  in  pastime  which  called  me  lon^  from  the 
lilti-ary. 

My  sr(\it  fear  of  marrying  was  h'st  I  should  fasten 
to  my  side  a  jierson  who  would  hurry  me  i>lf  the 
stai*'e  hefore  my  task  was  done,  or  otherwise  so  con- 
found nie  that  I  never  should  he  ahle  to  eom))lete  iny 
lahors.  'I'his  an  inconsiderate  woman  could  accom- 
plish in  a  variety  of  ways — as,  for  instance,  l)y  lack 
of  svmiiathv  in  mv  labors;  by  inoj'dinate  love  of 
]>leastn'e,  which  tinds  in  socii.'ty  gossip  its  hiL;hest 
oratilication;  hy  love  of  display,  which  leads  to  ex- 
pensive li\inii-,  !uid  the  like. 

Xaturnlly  shriidvin^'  fi'om  general  society,  and  pre- 
fei'i'ing  hooks  and  solitud.>  to  noisy  asseiuhlies,  like 
Eu)'ij>ides  I  was  undoubtedly  regarded  by  some  as 
sulky  and  morost;:  yet  I  believe  few  ever  I'cld  hu- 
manity in  higher  esteem  or  carried  a  kinder  lieait  f'^r 
all  men  than  \.  "When  a  niari  has  great  studies,' 
says  (Jeorge  Eliot,  "and  is  Vvriting  a  great  work.  hi> 
must,  of  coui'se,  give  up  seeing  much  of  the  world. 
How  can  he  go  about  makirig  aci|naintances?" 

Often  had  I  been  counselled  to  niarrv:  but  whom 
should  T  marry?  I  must  have  one  comjtetent,  iimh 
tally,  to  be  a  conipanion — one  in  whom  my  \\)'\\\A  mi.Jit 
rest  while  out  oi'  harness.  Then  th(.'  aflV'ct  on  iiiii4 
hnvo  something  to  feed  on,  if  one  would  not  see  ili-' 
book-writer  l>ecome  a  monstrosity  and  turn  ail  li;'  ■ 
head.  To  keep  a  healthy  mind  in  a  healihy  body  lu  • 
intellectual  toiler  of  all  other  men  needs  sympathy, 
which  shall  be  to  him  as  tin-  morning  sun  to  the  iVo^i- 
stitfened  ])lant.  It  i.^  not  well  to  wholly  uproot  feelmg 
oi'  thrust  atfection  back  upon  tlie  heart. 

As  the   healthy   body   seeks   food,   so  the  heal'.  Iiy 


I  ; 


MIND  AND  MATRIMONY. 


449 


mind  faints  for  friendship,  and  the  healtliy  heart  for 
|(»\f.  Nor  will  love  of  Iriends  and  relatives  aloni' 
MilHcc.  The  solitary  ))eii\!L,'  sit(hs  for  its  mate,  its  other 
]^lindly,  then,  if  we  shut  from  our  hreast  the 
scd  li^lit  of  heaven,  the  tendrils  of  aifcction 
stret<-h  f(»rth  oven  though  they  encounter  only  the 
«K;»d  wall  of  buried  ho})es. 

Whom  sliould  I  marry,  then?  Tlie  question  oft 
Vi'iuated  itself  Do  not  all  women  delight  in  the 
f.ipperies  of  fasliionable  life  more  tliaii  in  wliat  might 
M<iii  to  them  dry,  fruitless  toil?  Whei'e  should  love 
III'  tumid  of  sueli  transforming  strength  as  t"  meta- 
raori<hose  into  ^Ee  a  female  mind  of  fair  intelligenei.-, 
,iiiil  endow  its  possessor  with  the  same  extravagant 
uni]nisi;isni  of  which  1  was  possessed? 

NO;  better  a  thousand  times  no  wife  at  all  tlian 
one  who  should  j)rovo  unwilling  to  mid  her  sacrilice  to 
hiine  for  the  aceomplishment  of  a  high  [>urpos<j;  who 
sliotild  I'ail  to  see  things  as  I  saw  tliem.  or  to  mid<e 
my  iiiterest  hers;  wlio  should  not  believe  in  nu-  ;ind 
iii  my  work  witli  her  wiioie  soul;  who  should  not  be 
•  oiitcnt  to  make  my  heart  her  home,  and  go  with  me 
whi  !('\('r  duty  seemed  to  call,  or  who  could  not  ^ind 
111  intellectual  progress  the  highest  ploasur(;. 

l''or  years  my  heart  liiid  lain  a-rusting;  now  I 
thought  1  might  bring  it  out,  clean  and  jjolish  it,  and 
see  if  it  miu'ht  not  bu  as  good  as  new.  It  had  Im.mmi 
i;itimatod  by  certain  critics  that  I  had  allowed  love  ol' 
lilAiMtur(.'  to  rival  love  of  woman,  jhit  this  was  not 
till'.  I  was  ready  at  any  tinu.'  to  many  the  woman 
w  ho  sliould  a[»j)ear  to  me  in.  the  form  of  a  dispensation. 


A|.j)etite  underlies  all  activity,  in  the  absiMice  of 
■■i|'i>elne  one  juay  rest.  lfap{)y  he  whose  intellert  is 
iie\er  liungry.  wliose  soul  is  ever  satisfied  with  its  fail' 
I'Mind  fatness,  and  the  sum  of  whos(>  activities  is  con- 
iiiied  to  I  he  body,  to  feed,  grow,  and  re[)rodiice.  iict 
iiiiii  (leli'jiit  in  the  domestic  sanctuaiy.  Le't  him  go 
toiili  happily  in  tlu.'  morning,  and  let  him  s<3nil  to  his 

Lir.  iNlV.    2» 


4S0 


HOME. 


'{■ 


loved  ones  tlu'ir  lioof  and  tuniijis,  as  tf)l\ons  of  affrc- 
tioii.  I^iito  such  it  is  j^ivcii  <'\(i-  to  1k'  joyous,  and  to 
disouisi;  soir(»\v;  but  \vt  not  tlic  uum  of*  loltiti-  as|»ii;i- 
tioiis  seek  rest  ujiou  this  jilaiiet,  lor  lie  shall  not  iiiid  it. 

In  mirth  nun  are  sincere;  in  sohriety  hypoei-itic-il. 
It  is  luhind  the  mask  of  j^i-avity  that  the  fantasiir 
tricks  M'hich  turn  and  <»vei'turn  society  ai'e  ju'rlornp d. 
J<»y  is  moi-e  dillicult  to  counterfeit  than  sorroiv.  We 
may  cloud  the  sun  with  smoked  j^lass,  hut  we  cannot, 
dissij)ato  the  clouds  with  any  telescope  of  human  in^ 
vent  ion. 

"^I'he  higher  oi-der  of  literary  character  al)ov(>  all 


III)', 


loN'es 


^inij)lieity  and  a  (juiet  life;    loves   tr; 


tl 

quillity  oi'  mind  and  a  body  IVee  from  })ain:  liat* 
interru]>tions.  controversial  wranujlings,  and  ])erMiiial 
])uhlicity.  '^rhiis  it  was  with  Scott,  lJun-ald  Stewart, 
au'l  a  host  of  others.  Not  the  least  straiii^'e  amoiin'  tlie 
contrarieties  of  human  nature  are  ih(.'  ichosyncrasjcs  i,\' 
authors.  Why  sliould  men  of  *^eiiius  so  conunoiily  lie 
dissipatiKl,  fjuarrelsonio,  and  void  of  connnon  sense  f 
^Linds  the  wisest,  the  most  <.'xalted,  the  most  liiidv 
struiiLX,  si'em  inse|»araii]('  from  some  s|)ecies  of  madni  ss. 


Men  ot';j,eiHUs  usually  m  some  duvctions are  visionaiy 
dreamers;  ii»  many  directions  they  are  ol'ten  as  iii- 
jj^enuous  as  children,  li'cewise  as  wayward  and  as  petu- 
lant. Xowonder  women  cannot  emlurethem.  Meanly 
selfish,  the  wayward  follies  of  childhood  are  intcn>i- 
fied  l>v  the  ituhhorn  w  ill  of  the  man.  ljik(^  the  ever 
chan^'inijj  waters,  now  their  (lis]tosition  is  as  tlif  <li'n* 

ith  exnu.site  daintiness  on  e\<  rv 


ot  moi'mnu'  s 


itti 


}\>y  w 


(]U 


ii'ii 


Wtl)  and  ])etal,  refreshinijj  every  leaf  and  llower,  t! 
hursthijj:  forth  in  mercih^  ^i  storm,  heatin«i;  on  all  it 
loves  and  layini^  low  its  own.  And  yet  tli<'  moistm-f 
is  the  same  and  eternally  reviving':  so  that,  wlirtlicr 
the  mood  of  these  men  is  as  the  silent  vajior  or  t!it| 
ra!L,nni.;'  sea,  whethei' their  speech  is  as  the  (h'oppiiiu  "t 
pearly  dew  or  as  the  heating  of  the  rain-storm,  tlicir 
min<ls    arc    an    exhaustless   ocean    of  life  sustain  in,;,' 


tl 


iou<r 


ht. 


DOMESTIC  INFELICITY. 


451 


The  wIlV  of  u  litDi'ury  nuiii  lias  her  own  jjooullur 
tmiildos,  wliii'li  tlic^  world  knows  not  of.  Much  of 
till'  tinu'  s]i(i  is  left  alonu  while  lu-r  hushand  is  huiidd 
ill  his  studies.  She  craves  more  of  his  society,  \)vv- 
li;i|)s,  than  he  feels  ahle  to  give  her;  the  theatre,  the 
"]Mia,and  eveniuijf  parties  in  a  measure  .she  is  ohliged 
til  loi'ego.  When  talking  to  her,  his  fipccch  is  not 
iihAays  pleasing.  From  seeming  njoroseness  he  sonie- 
ti)iK's  darts  oti"  at  the  angle  of  an  ahsurd  idea,  or 
iiuhil<''es  in  a  deluijfe  of  dialectics  ui)on  societv,  l)oli- 
tics,  religioji,  or  any  suhject  which  hap[)ens  to  fall 
viiider  his  ohservation.  Besides  this  he  niav  b(!  at 
times  ncivous,  fretful,  whimsical,  full  of  fault-fin<liiigs 
ami  unjust  com)>laints  ahout  the  very  things  to  \\hich 
slic  has  devoted  her  most  cai'eful  attention.  ^^  hen 
we  considc!)-  all  this  we  cannot  nuich  wondi-r  at  tht.> 
pinverbial  domestic  infelicities  of  authoi's.  Lecky 
iitliiMis  that  "no  painter  or  novelist,  who  ^\■islu'd  to 
iji  |ii(t  an  ideal  of  perh^ct  haj)[)iness,  would  seek  it  in 
a  |iiiif(>und  student." 


What  a  I'atalogue  tliey  make,  to  ])e  sure,  taken 
iihiiost  at  random.  The  n;ime  ol"  Xanthipj)e,  w'i'j 
I't'  Socrates,  has  become  a  hywoi'd  in  history  for  a 
^hivw.  Jhit  not  e\'erv  one  is,  like  the  jj'reat  Athenian 
>a_;('.  possesscid  of  the  jiliilosophy  to  ch(»ose  a  wife  as 
In  would  make  choice  of  a  I'estive  horse,  so  that  in 
l-lii'  nianagement  of  hei-  he  might  learn  the  better  to 
iiiaiiMge  mankind. 

( 'i<<'ro,  after  thirty  yeai's  of  niiinied  lile,  di\(>rced 
T(  r.iitia,  his  <larling,  the  delight  of  his  eyes,  and  tin.' 
hist  of  mothers,  as  he  repeatedly  called  her.  J)ante, 
AllHit  Diirer,  ^[oliere,  Scaligei',  Steele,  and  Shake- 
s|"  are  were  unhap]»y  in  thfir  wi\es.  At  the  age  of 
•  i'jlit  years  JJyron  made  love  and  rhymes  to  Maiy 
I  hill",  at  eleven  to  Miirgai'et  l*arkei',  and  at  filUt.n 
t"  Maiy  Chawt)rtli.  The  last  nanied  ^lary  refusing 
li!)ii  he  Hnally  married  Anne  Isabella  Milbanke.  A 
}'  ar  (rf  married  life   had   hardly  passed   bc.'fore   Lady 


452 


HOME. 


: 


''\ 


Byron  was  Iku'Ic  in  lior  fatlK'r's  liouso.  TL'  wIim 
awoke  ouv.  M\()V\ui\<j;  and  f'onnd  liiinsc^ll'  fanious — sudi 
is  tlic;  irony  of  faino — was  nioKKcd  by  liis  late  adorns, 
and  soon  qnittud  ICni^dand  forever.  At  V^cnico  i\\\< 
most  licentious  of  poets  met  Tei'esa  (Jaml)a,  wife  i>\' 
Count  (luiocioli,  who  kindly  winked  at  a  liaison  Ix - 
tween  liis  countess  and  tin;  Kni^Tish  lord. 

Bni'iis  made  sad  work  of  it;  iirst  falllncf  in  lii\, 
with  his  harvestimjf  companion,  a  hoimie  swi'et  lass  (.f 
fourteen,  then  faHinj^  out  with  .lean  Arnioui",  a  rustic 
heauty,  leavini^  her  twins  to  su]>]tort,  next  enL^a'^iii;!' 
to  marry  Colonel  ^ront<jfomei'y's  d;iiry-mai<l,  Miiiy 
Cam[>ltell,  her  whom  lie  made  imniortid  as  lliL,^h!;iinl 
]\rarv,  siMLriu'''  of  her  as  ^larv  in  llea\'en  hefon'  t!ie 
nuptials  wei-e  consununated  on  earth,  and  linally  vr- 
tuiniiijj^  to  his  old  love,  Jean  Armour,  and  marryiii.; 
her — meanwhile  so  intem[)erato  that,  last  of  all.  In 
died  of  overmuch  drink. 

In  tlu!  J)owa!L^<'r  Countess  of  Warwick,  Addis'ii 
fouii!!  an  unconu'enial  wife,  and  spent  the  remaim!'  i 
of  his  life,  as  Whipple  says,  in  taverns,  duhs.  .I'l  I 
re|tentance.  The  liady  l^iizaheth  1  loward,  dai!';ii'  i' 
of  the  earl  of  ]>e'rkshire,  added  nothinLj  to  tin-  lia|'- 
piiiess  of  Dryden,  whom  she  married.  IMoiitaiuin- 
found  mairied  life  trouhh>some;  La  l"\)ntaine  desiitui 
his  wii'e;  and  Itousst'au  went  after  strani^e  t^'-odd  ■  -  r-^. 

The  refined  Shelley  separated  from  Harriet  Wcst- 
hroolc,  th(>  innkeepei-'s  daUL^hter,  two  years  after  tliiir 
mari'ia^e.  It  seems  lu^  preferred  to  his  Avife  aip'tliu 
woman,  ]\fary  (Jodwin,  and  al'ter  li\in!jf  witli  lni  I  i 
two  years,  his  wife  meanwhile  kindly  di-owninLi  h''- 
sclf,  ho  married  his  mistress;  nt>t  tiiat  he  regarded  dir 
mari'ia'jcc  contract  as  hindiinj.  or  in  anv  wisi'  necessai\ , 
hut  because  it  would  ^ive  [)ieasuro  to  ^Fary.  Alt  i' 
hreakint^  half  a  score  of  hearts,  (Joetlie,  Ix'forc  li'' 
maiTJed  luM",  lived  twenty-eii,dit  years  with  tlie  hii.lit- 
eyed  ufirl  whom  he  had  met  in  the  pai'k  at  Weini.n'. 

xVt  the  end  of  the  honeymoon,  Mary  Powell  l«  It 
John  Milton,  went  back   to  her  father's  house,  an*' 


A  rniCIIITFUL  CATALOOUE. 


4.-3 


n  ruscil  t(»  rutiini;  tliouj^^li  t\V(»  yiars  later  a  rcconcili- 
ilinii  Wits  ctruetucl.  Tliu  \v\i'v  of  'rJuu-kfi'iiy  was  om.!- 
lakcM  Ity  Ji  Ic'vcr  jukI  ])ul  out  to  bo  mii'se'd,  while  tho 
lni'l)aii(l  uiid  two  (laughters  lixi-d  with  his  iiiothi  r. 

Ila/litt,  one  of  tho  most  luilliaiit  of  criti.s  and 
( !iii|iioiit  of  essayists,  had  a  most  inlelieitoiis  matiiiiio- 
iii.il  experience.  Jii  l.SOS  he  marrii'd  ^liss  Stoddait. 
.\ti<i' living  with  her  some  ten  years,  ho  I'ell  ci-azily 
ill  lovo  with  a  tailor's  daughter.  So  liei-eely  l>ui'iii'd 
lhi>  llame  that  he;  divoi'ced  his  wile,  she  nothing;- loath, 
;iii(l  threw  himsilf  at  the  loot  ol"  the  maid,  only  ( 
lie  icjectod.  I'hen  ho  espoused  a  widow,  Mrs  Jirid^l 
w.itci',  who  lot't  him  within  a  year  al'ter  marriage. 


o 


E 


von  uen 


tie  Charles    Laml»  hrt)l 


vo  a  marna^o  en- 


l^'n^cinent,  boeauso  (<!"  a.  tendency  to  insanity  in  his 
faiiiily,  and  on  account  ol'  his  sister,  Maiy  Lamb,  w  ho 
killid  her  mother,  and  was  obliued  to  bo  coulined  in  a 


liiiiat 


l(t  asylum  peiiodlca 


llv. 


l'o]ie,  who  di\es  dei'[)  into  the  human  heart  and 
lu.'ikes  its  inmost  i-ecesses  his  lanuliar  haunt,  is  so  Ibol- 
idi  in  his  pr<ilessions  ol"  lo\(;  I'oi'  Lady  Mary  W'oi'tley 
Mniitai4U  that  she  laughs  in  his  lace,  thereby  incurring 
liis  deadly  ennut  y  Ibrever  al'ter. 

«'  »■' 

How  nmch  better  it  would  bo  for  liteiriry  men 
l(j  iiian-y  as  all  nature  marries,  under  direction  of 
till  ir  harmonies,  and  then  I'est  in  their  new  relation>. 
Tlici'e  is  no  (piostion  that  an  evi'iily  balanced  mind 
•  ;iii  laltor  more  steadily,  can  do  inoii!  and  better  work, 
uihld-  the  calm  and  well  regidated  freedom  of  the  mar- 
li.'i'^c  state  than  when  unsettled  by  I'eslless  ci'avings. 
I)Ut  these  men  of  genius  seem  to  have  married  tluir 
W(Hs  instead  of  their  pleasuriis. 


he  women  in  many  instances  seem  to  he  no 


bett 


or 


lliaii 


tl 


10  men. 
th 


.t.n( 


leed,  tiu'  wife  lni.'f  hlcu.  (»ne   badly 


Hi.  rtfd   with  cacoc 


■jth 


ic.s   SCI  I 


luiiJ 


^  IS   a 


bout 


as  mdo\ 


ill'!"'  a  woman  as  a  female  dot-tor.     I'Y'licitous  I'Vlicia 


M. 


iiians,  alter  making  her  sicU  captani  veiy  unhappy, 


ih 


I'l  liim  go  to  Italy  while  slu;  wont  home;  after  whli'Ii 
till  \  n^-'Ner  took  the  trouble  to  moot.     Gooroo  Sand, 


494 


HOME. 


;■  I'i 


fiiuliiig  ]\fv  with  a  hiisbjuid  uiiendurablu,  bco^nn  ;i 
SL'itanitioii  hy  takiii'jf  licr  (.'liiMroii  to  Paris  ami  tluiv 
.s[H'ii(lin^  hall'  the  yaiv,  the  othor  halt'  being  <)('cu|ii(il 
ill  the  (iiiectioii  <>t'  diverce. 

Divorce;  alone  did  not  satisfy  Rosina  Wheeler,  witi 


of  Edward  liulwer  Lytton,  but  siie  must  publish  books 
iij^ainst  her  former  liusband,  and  haran;j:ue  jinuinst 
him  at  the  hustings  when  he  stood  for  parliament 
At  i-aillng  and  ear))ing  she  outdid  sleepy  M<»niu>. 
^fadame  dc;  Stael,  if  she  hated  not  mai'riage,  hated 
tile  iVuits  of  it.  Said  she  of  her  ehildri'n:  "Jls  n^ 
me  ressi'inbleiit  l)as;"  and  of  lier  daughter,  whom  sin 
all'tieted  to  despise:  "  (  "est  une  luiie  bien  |t;ile."  'riii> 
talented  lad V  should  Ikim.'  lived  anionu"  tlu;  ( 'liiiiesc, 
who  maintain  that  "  the  haj)[)iest  motliei'of  dangl.tei> 
is  she  who  has  only  sons;"  just  as  Saint  Paul  thought 
those  best  married  who  had  no  wives.  Talents  eease 
t(t  be  beroming  when  they  rentier  a  mother  indilleieiit 
or  axeise  to  her  otlspring. 

Ihit  there  is  this  of  .Nladame  de  Stael  which  may 
be  said  in  her  favoi-:  Her  life,  so  I'ar  as  conjugal  hap 
piness  was  concerned,  was  a  wreck,  just  as  the  life  of 
many  another  woman  of  intellect  and  culture  ha- 
ll-.U.nv 


b 


1. 


jeeii  one  long-drawn  sigli  tor  companionship, 
as  is  a  life  for  society,  and  hard  as  is  a  life  of  alone 
ness,    either   is   j)i'eferable   to  the   soul-slavery    ot'  a 
woman   tii'd   to   a  coiiH)aiii()nless    husl)and.     (jreorgc 
Eliot,  the    matcliless,  the  magnilicent — but  we   will 
dro[)  the  curtain! 

In  this  practical  scientific  age  the  subtlest  scivix  >■ 
is  the  science  of  self  ^lan  is  possessed  of  many 
vagaries;  and  of  all  occupations  the  writing  of  l>ook.s 
is  attended  bv  the  most  pains  and  whimsicalities. 
Extraordinar}'  strength  in  one  direction  is  balaiicea 
b}'  extraordinary  weakness  in  another;  as  a  rule  ynu 
may  tlebit  a  man  with  folly  in  proportion  as  ynii 
credit  him  with  wisdom. 

Higher  and  better  trained  than  any  we  are  apt  to 


MORi;  AnOUT  WIVKS. 


4:>r, 


iiicct  must  l>o  tlic  intellect  that  finds  in  utility  alone 
ii  siiilioiunt  incentivu  to  well-doinijr.  Evurv  «l.iv  uo 
see  men  of  educaticni  wiltully  trans;^n'essinj4',  ivLfardless 
nf  consefinenees,  while  the  i;L,'norant  and  superstitious, 
under  reli^-'ious  fear, shun  the  evil  that  ( mis  in  disastei-. 

.loaciuin  .Milli;r  admij'i'd  l>vi'on.  IJvron  tre.'iled  his 
wile  hadly;  .roa((uin  tn;atod  his  wile  hadly.  d(ia(|uiu 
was  satisfied  that  in  no  other  way  could  he  he  JJyroii — 
and  Joafjuin  was  i-i^ht.  In  this  res[)ect,  as  in  every 
other,  alas  I  I  may  not  lay  claim  to  n'enius. 

ThiiUL^h  not  unif'oi-mly  t!ven-tenii)ered  and  amiahlo, 
I  <;inn<it  say  that  I  <l(;light  in  tornientin!^  my  family. 
M.iiiy  times  I  have  attemi)tcd  it  and  failed.  I  lack  tho 
lurtitudi'  to  face  tho  conse<iucnces;  1  find  defeat  less 
h.iiid'ul  than  victory.  Twelve  times  uroaned  J'^U'jcno 
Aram  ;  his  nnu'dert'd  victim  yiioaned  hut  twice.  Man's 
ihliumanitv,  not  Satan,  is  man's  ereatest  eneniv. 

l)Ut  while  we  Jointly  ahlior  those  ahnormitios  of 
n-  imis  which  tend  to  injustice  and  cruelty,  let  us  not 
r  I'^et  that  uj'enlus  is  t-ccentric,  an<l  nowhere  m<>re  so 
tli.iii  in  its  I'l'lations  with  women.  (  u!nius,to  he  j^'eiiius, 
]i\\\4  he  ii'i'e;^nilar.      1  [e  who  is  cliarged  witli  the  [ 


n  )S- 


sc-'^lon  ot   'Jenuis,  I 


f  h 


m  every  respect  iiUe  vwry 


tlik 


eiiier  man,  uhvicnisly  either  lu;  is  noijjenius  or  else  all 
iiieii  are  men  of  genius.  Therefore  the  Uien  of  sense 
imist  exercise  their  patience  while  the  men  of  genius 


iiiid;e  idiots  of  themselv 


es. 


N'i>twithstandin<'-  all  that  has  boon  said  and  written 
iiiiicciiiinu-  tlic  domestic  infelicities  of  authoi's,  and 
I'l  iiie  add  of  others,  the  one;  thousandth  part  has  not 
li'i'ii  toM.  Only  a  few  of  th<!  insani'r  sort  have  conu; 
t"  tlie  light.      Of  smothered  wrongs  and   uidieralded 


llMt 


es; 


.f  tl 


lornv  marria<'\' 


l)ed> 


uid  itoisoned  comni 


li\es  wliicli  have-  nevi'r 


oeen 


Wl 


re    wiitten,   the   lihrari 


es    o 


1 
1.1; 

f    tl 


l/.one( 


I   al 


>;•(  >a(i 


11 


le    woi 


Id 


Won 


d 


II'    ds  he  douhletl.    ^[iHions  have  thus  lived  and  die<l, 
ii'".('rth(less  there  have  heen  those  so  seemingly  swept 


"iiwaid  hv  the  saturnine  infl 


tl 


that 


escu[)e  ap[iearec 


see 
uence  ot  mar 
impossil 


ital   iufelici- 


ind  so  wuiun 


th 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


1.0 


I.I 


*-  IIIIIM 
««  IIIIM 


M 

2.2 


2.0 


1.8 


1.25      1.4 

1.6 

M 6"     - 

► 

r>7 


^1 


'^.*;" 
-% 


'/ 


-«^ 


Hiotographic 

Sciences 

Corporation 


33  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14580 

(716)  872-4503 


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4o6 


HOME. 


the  month  wo  see  tlic  heart-broken  Mrs  Bluebeard 
marrying  the  fascinating  Captnin  Blaekbeard. 

In  the  eyes  of  Demosthenes  two  (jualilications  only 
were  essential  in  a  wife;  she  must  be  a  faithful  house- 
guardian  and  a  fruitful  mother.  But  times  ha\o 
greatly  changed  since  the  days  of  Demosthenes:  Irisli 
servants  are  the  house-guardians,  and  the  best  wiws 
often  those  that  are  not  mothers  at  all. 

No  one  possessed  of  maidincss  will  marry  a  woman 
for  money.  For  uidess  she  voluntarily  dispossesses 
herself  of  her  property,  which  no  woman  in  h(;r  senses 
will  do,  and  becomes  a  puppet  in  her  husband's  liands, 
she  is  apt  sooner  or  later  to  unloose  the  reins  oi' 
womanly  decorum  and  to  arrogate  to  herself  not  only 
the  management  of  her  own  alfairs  but  also  hei'  lius- 
band's.  As  Juvenal  wrote  with  the  women  of  Ilonio 
before  him: 

"Sure  of  all  ills  with  wliicli  mankind  are  curst 
A  ■\vifo  who  brmga  you  money  is  tlic  worst." 

To  me  the  long  catalogue  of  matrimonial  infernal- 
isms  has  no  signiiicaace  other  than  that  of  congi-atu- 
lation  at  my  escape  from  such  loving  woes.  The 
younger  Pliny  I  will  take  for  my  text,  and  out-sweai- 
him  double  upon  his  domestic  ]ieacc.  Hear  him  talk 
of  his  Calpurnia:  "Her  intelligence  is  very  great, 
very  great  her  frugality;  in  loving  me  she  shows  hnw 
good  a  heart  she  has.  And  she  has  now  a  tundiiess 
for  letters,  whicli  springs  from  her  affection  for  me. 
Sh(^  keeps  my  books  by  her,  loves  to  read  them,  cmh 
learns  them  by  heart.  These  things  make  me  I'eel  a 
most  certain  hope  that  there  will  be  a  porpetual  ami 
ever  growing  harmony  between  us.  For  it  is  ii'it 
youth  or  personal  beauty  that  she  loves  in  me — things 
that  by  degrees  decline  with  old  age — but  my  fame. ' 

Her  life  was  one  continuous  sparkle,  like  that  ef 
good  wine  whose  s]Mrlt  is  innnortal.  Her  face  \va< 
as  a  lovely  landscape,  brightly  serene,  warmed  by  all- 


FOUm)  AT  LAST. 


467 


molting  sympathy,  and  lighted  by  the  glow  of  intel- 
lect. Her  voice  was  like  the  laughing  water;  hei 
lauijfh  was  rinLi'lng  silver:  and  througli  the  st)ft  azure 
()['  her  eye  the  eye  of  love  might  see  an  ocean  of 
alfection.  Joyous  was  her  approach,  lighting  with  her 
sunbeam  smile  the  dismal  recesses  of  rellection;  and 
hcaming  beautiful  as  she  was  without,  I  found  her, 
as  Aristotle  says  of  Pythias,  as  lair  and  good  witliin. 
Beneath  sweet  and  simple  speech  in  wluch  was 
no  sting,  behind  a  childlike  manner  in  wliich  was  no 
childishness,  there  was  revealed  to  me,  day  by  day 
as  we  walked  and  talked  together,  a  full  developed 
womanly  character,  strong,  deep,  compreliensive.  llal- 
lying  to  my  su})port  with  ever  increasing  mental 
powers,  by  her  ready  aid  and  fond  encouragement 
she  doubled  my  capabilities  from  tlie  lirst.  For  no 
loss  in  these,  than  in  the  good  wife's  tender  trust,  lies 
the  strong  man's  strength. 

New  Haven  had  been  her  home,  and  of  the  families 
of  that  old  vmiversity  town  jiers  was  among  the  most 
rospected.  It  was  there  I  lirst  met  her,  and  afterward 
at  Jjethlehem,  the  highest  of  New  England  villages. 
Walking  down  the  dustv  road,  we  turned  aside  into 
a,  rockv  field,  crossing  into  a  lane  which  led  us  to  a 
tangled  wood,  where,  seated  on  a  fallen  tree,  cacli  spoke 
the  words  to  speak  which  we  were  there.  It  was  the 
12th  of  October,  1876,  that  I  married  ]Matilda  Coley 
♦  Jiitling;  and  from  the  day  that  she  was  mine,  wher- 
oviT  h(!r  sweet  ])resence,  there  was  my  home. 

There  was  no  little  risk  on  her  ]iart,  in  thus  com- 
mitting the  new  wine  of  her  love  to  an  old  bottle; 
hut  that  risk  she  took,  retained  her  fresh  maidenly 
mood  unhackneyed,  and  never  burst  the  coniine  of 
wifely  courtesy. 

it  has  been  elsewhere  intimated  that  no  one  is 
<'oiii|)('tont  to  write  a  book  who  has  not  already 
written  several  books.  Tiie  same  observation  might 
he  not  inaitproj)riately  api>lit'd  to  marriag(\  No  man 
—  I  will  not  say  woman — is  really  in  the  fittest  condi- 


i68 


HOME. 


tion  to  marry  who  has  not  been  married  before.  For 
obvious  reasons,  a  midclle-a<xed  man  oui^ht  to  make  a 
better  husband  than  a  very  youn^"  man.  Ho  lias  had 
more  experience;  he  sliould  know  more,  have  better 
coi.trol  of  himself,  and  bo  better  prepared  to  have 
consideration  for  those  dependent  upon  him  for  hap- 
piness or  support.  The  young  man,  particulaily  one 
who  has  not  all  his  life  enjoyed  the  noblest  and  best 
of  female  society,  does  not  always  entertain  the  high- 
est o})inion  of  woman,  never  having  reached  the  finer 
qualities  of  her  mind  and  heart,  and  having  no  con- 
ception of  the  superiority  of  her  refined  and  gentle 
nature  over  his  own.  Hence  the  inexperienced  youth, 
launched  upon  the  untried  ocean  of  matrimony,  often 
finds  himself  in  the  midst  of  storms  which  might  have 
been  with  ease  avoided,  had  he  been  possessed  of 
greater  tact  or  experience. 

And  the  children  which  come  later  in  the  lives  of 
their  parents — we  might  say,  happy  are  they  as  coiii- 
})ared  with  those  who  a])|)earcd  before  them.  It  is 
safe  to  say  that  one  half  the  children  born  into  tJie 
world  die  in  infuncy  through  the  ignorance  or  neghc  t 
of  their  })arents;  and  of  the  otlier  half,  their  lives  f^r 
the  most  part  are  made  miserable  from  the  same 
cause.  The  young  husband  and  father  chafes  under 
the  new  cares  and  anxieties  incident  to  untried  res[)()ii- 
sibilitios  which  interfere  with  his  comfort  and  pleasure, 
and  the  child  nmst  suffer  therefrom.  Often  a  nuwly 
married  pair  are  not  ready  at  once  to  welcome  children ; 
they  are  perhaps  too  much  taken  up  with  themselves 
and  the  pleasures  and  pastimes  of  society.  J^ater  in 
life  parents  are  better  prepared,  more  in  the  humor  it 
may  be,  more  ready  to  find  their  chief  pleasure  in 
welcoming  to  the  world  successive  reproductions  of 
themselves,  and  watching  the  physical  and  mental 
unfolding,  and  ministering  to  the  comfort  and  joy  of 
the  new  and  stranue  little  beincrs  committed  to  tluiii. 

There  was  little  lack  of  sympathy  between  us,  my 
wife  and  me,  little  lack  of  heart,  and  head,  and  hand 


THE  NEW  LIFE. 


450 


help.  After  the  journeying  incident  to  this  new  re- 
lationship was  over,  and  I  once  more  s(;ttled  at  work, 
all  along  down  the  days  and  years  of  future  ploddings 
[Kitiently  by  my  side  she  sat,  her  face  the  picture  of 
lia[)[)3'  contentment,  assisting  me  with  her  quick  appli- 
cation and  sound  discrimination,  making  notes,  sti.dv- 
ing  my  ujanuscript,  and  erasing  or  altering  such 
repetitions  and  solecisms  as  crept  into  my  work. 

At  White  Sulphur  s})rings,  and  Santa  Cruz,  where 
we  spent  the  following  spring  and  summer,  on  the 
hotel  porches  used  to  sit  the  feathery- brained  womeu 
of  fashion  from  the  cit}' — used  there  to  sit  and  cackle, 
cackle,  cackle,  all  the  morning,  and  all  the  evening, 
while  we  were  at  our  work;  and  I  never  before  so 
realized  the  advantage  to  woman  of  ennoblinu'  occu- 
|)ation.  Why  should  she  be  the  vain  and  trifling 
tiling,  intellectually^  that  she  generally  is?  How  long 
w  ill  those  who  call  themselves  ladies  exercise  their 
iiiiluence  to  make  work  degi-ading,  and  only  folly 
fashional)le?  At  the  Springs  during  this  time  there 
was  a  talented  woman  of  San  Francisco,  well  known 
in  select  circles,  who  had  written  a  volume  of  really 
beautiful  poems,  but  who  assured  me  she  was  ashamed 
to  })ublish  it,  on  account  of  the  damage  it  would  be 
to  her  socially;  that  is  to  say,  her  frivolous  sisters 
would  tolerate  no  sense  in  her. 

Ihii  little  cared  we  for  any  of  them.  We  were 
content;  nay,  more,  we  were  very  happy.  liising 
carl}'  and  breakfasting  at  eight  o'clock,  we  devoted 
the  forenoon  to  work.  After  luncheon  we  walked,  or 
indo,  or  drove,  usually  until  dinner,  after  which  my 
V,  ite  and  daughter  mingled  with  the  com[)any,  while 
1  wrote  often  until  ten  or  eleven  o'clock.  In  this 
wav  I  could  averau'e  ten  hours  a  day;  which,  but  for 
llic  extraordinary  strength  of  my  constitution,  must 
lie  regarded  twice  as  much  as  I  should  have  done. 

It  was  a  great  saving  to  me  of  time  and  strength, 
this  takinir  niy  work  into  the  country.  In  constant 
cuiinnunicatiou  wuth  the  library,  I  could  draw  thence 


4G0 


HO!»IE. 


daily  such  fi'csli  material  as  I  rc(]uirc(l,  and  as  often 
as  necessary  visit  the  library  in  })ers()n,  and  have 
supervision  of  things  there.  Thus  Avas  my  time 
divided  between  the  still  solitude  of  the  country  and 
the  noisy  solitude  of  the  city. 

Never  in  my  life  did  I  woik  harder  or  accomplish 
more  than  durin^,^  the  years  immediately  succeed iii;^' 
my  marria^'e,  while  at  the  same  time  hotly  and  mind 
grew  stronger  under  the  fortifying  inlluences  of  hcjme. 

For  a  year  and  more  before  my  marriage  I  had 
been  under  promise  to  my  daughter  to  go  east  at  tlie 
close  of  her  summer  school  term  and  accoinpanv  her 
to  the  centennial  exhibition  at  Philadelphia.  This 
I  did,  leaving  San  Francisco  the  loth  of  June  187(!, 
and  taking  her,  with  her  two  cousins  and  a  young 
lady  friend,  to  the  great  world's  show,  thei'e  to  s])end 
the  first  two  weeks  in  July.  Thence  we  all  re- 
turned to  Xew  Haven,  During  a  previous  visit  east 
I  had  met  Miss  Griffing,  and  I  now  determined  tn 
meet  heroftener.  After  a  few  weeks  in  New  IIa\(ii 
I  proceeded  to  Butialo;  and  thence,  after  a  time,  tn 
the  White  mountains,  whither  Miss  Griffing  had 
migrated  for  the  summer. 

Immediately  after  our  mnrriage  we  went  to  New 
York,  Philadel[)hia,  and  Washington.  ]\Iy  newly 
wedded  pleasure  did  not,  however,  render  me  obh\- 
ious  to  my  historical  aims.  In  New  York  1  callctl 
on  General  and  Mrs  Fremont.  They  were  excird- 
ingly  gracious,  realizing  fully  the  importance  of  llu; 
Morli.  v>hicli  I  was  doing,  wished  particularly  to  ho 
placed  right  in  history,  whei'e  they  had  always  beni 
under  a  cloud,  they  said,  and  promised  their  imnu- 
diate  and  hearty  cooperation;  all  of  which  was  i<ll'^ 
Avind.  Why  cannot  the  soi-dlmnt  great  and  good 
always  shame  the  devil? 

I  found  Mrs  Fremont  a  large,  fine  appearing,  grn\  - 
haired  woman  of  sixty,  perhaps,  very  animated  and 
shrewdly  talkative,  thoroughly  engrossed  in  her  hus- 


SUXDRY  VISITS. 


461 


band's  scliomos,  assisting  liini  now,  as  she  has  done  for 
twenty  years,  by  planning  and  wi'iting  for  him.  The 
general  appeared  about  sixty-five,  slightly  built,  with 
closely  trimmed  gray  hair  and  beard. 

From  New  York  we  went  to  Washington,  and 
saw  ^lajor  and  !Mrs  Powell,  George  Bancroi't,  Judge 
Field,  ]\Ir  Spolford,  and  many  others.  After  a  day  at 
^[ount  Vernon  we  returned  to  Baltimore,  there  to 
meet  President  Gilman,  Brantz  ]\Iayer,  and  other 
friends.  Thougli  both  of  us  had  seen  the  exhibition, 
as  we  supposed,  we  could  not  pass  it  by  up(-)n  the 
present  occasion,  and  accorcUngly  spent  a  week  in 
Philadelphia. 

With  new  interest  j\Irs  Bancroft  now  regarded 
everything  pertaining  to  the  Paciiic  coast.  "  The 
Indian  trappings  in  the  government  building,"  she 
writes  in  her  journal  begun  at  this  time,  "the  })hoto- 
graplis  of  the  IMound-builders  and  the  Cave-dwellers, 
the  stone  utensils  and  curiously  decorated  pottery  of 
the  Pueblos,  the  glass  photographs  of  views  in  Col- 
orado and  Ar-izona,  so  vividly  displaying,  with  its 
wild  fascinations,  the  scenery  of  the  west,  all  seemed 
suddenly  clothed  in  new  charms." 

I  had  Iou'j:  desired  a  dictation  from  John  A.  Sutter. 
Indeed,  I  regarded  the  information  which  he  alono 
could  give  as  absolutely  essential  to  my  liistoiy,  the 
first,  as  he  was,  to  settle  in  the  valley  of  the  Sacra- 
mento, so  near  the  spot  where  gold  was  first  discov- 
ered, and  so  prominent  in  those  parts  during  the 
wliole  period  of  the  Californian  Inferno.  I  knew  that 
ho  was  somewhere  in  that  vicinity,  but  I  did  not 
know  where.  I  telegraphed  to  San  Francisco  for 
his  address,  and  received  in  repl}^  '  Sitig,  Lancaster 
v'ouiity,  Pennsylvania.'  After  some  search  I  found  the 
'SitIg'  to  mean  Litiz,  and  immediately  telegraphed 
both  the  operator  and  the  postmaster.  In  due  time 
answer  came  that  General  Sutter  resided  there,  and 
A\'as  at  home. 

Leaving  Philadelphia  in  the  morning,  and  passing 


i! 


462 


noMi 


up  tlio  beautiful  valley  of  the  Schuylkill,  wo  readied 
our  (Icstinatiou  about  noon.  Why  this  bold  Swiss, 
who  for  a  dozen  years  or  more  was  little  less  than 
hini^  aiuonj^  the  natives  of  the  Sierra  foothills,  where 
had  been  enacted  the  mad  doinjjs  of  the  i;okl-seekers, 
why  ho  should  leave  this  land  of  sunsliinc,  evL-n 
though  he  had  been  unfortunate,  and  hid»!  himself  in 
a  dismal  Dutch  town,  was  a  mystery  to  me.  Accident 
seemed  to  have  ruled  him  in  it;  accident  directed 
him  thither  to  a  Moravian  school,  as  suitable  in  which 
to  i)lacc  a  granddaughter.  This  step  led  to  the  build- 
ing of  a  house,  and  there  ho  at  this  time  intended  to 
end  his  days.  Well,  no  doubt  heaven  is  as  near  l.,itiz 
as  California;  but  sure  I  am,  the  departure  thence 
is  not  so  pleasant. 

At  the  Litiz  Springs  hotel,  directly  opposite  to 
whicli  stood  General  Sutter's  two-story  brick  house, 
we  were  told  that  the  old  gentleman  was  ill,  unaljje 
to  receive  visitors,  and  that  it  Avould  be  useless  to 
attempt  to  see  him.  There  was  one  man,  the  barber, 
who  went  every  day  to  shave  the  general,  who  could 
gain  mo  audience,  if  such  a  thing  were  possible.  I 
declined  with  thanks  his  distinguished  services,  ami 
ordered  dinner. 

"  I  will  go  over  and  see  his  wife,  at  all  events,"  I 
said  to  the  clerk. 

"  That  will  avail  you  nothing,"  was  the  reply;  "  she 
is  as  deaf  as  an  adder." 

"  Who  else  is  there  in  the  family?" 

"A  granddaughter." 

That  was  sufficient.  I  did  not  propose  to  lose  my 
journey  to  Litiz,  and  what  was  more,  this  probably 
my  last  opportunity  for  securing  this  important  dicta- 
tion. I  was  determined  to  see  the  general,  if  indeed  ho 
3'et  breathed,  and  ascertain  for  myself  how  ill  he  was. 

After  knocking  loudly  at  the  portal  three  several 
times,  the  door  was  slowly,  silently  opened  a  little 
way,  and  the  head  of  an  old  woman  appeared  at  the 
aperture. 


STORMING  SUTTER  FORT. 


4C3 


"Is  this  Mm  Sutter?"  1  asked. 

No  response, 

"May  1  speak  ^ith  you  a  moment  in  the  hall?" 

Still  no  response,  and  no  encouragement  for  me  to 
enter.  There  she  stood,  the  guardian  of,  apparently, 
as  impregnable  a  fortress  as  ever  was  Fort  Sutter  in 
its  palmiest  days.  I  must  gain  admission;  retreat 
now  might  be  fatal.  Stepping  toward  the  small 
()})ening  as  if  there  was  no  obstacle  whatever'  to 
my  entering,  and  as  the  door  swung  back  a  little  at 
my  approach,  I  slipped  into  the  hall. 

Once  within,  no  ogress  was  there.  ]\Irs  Sutter  was 
a  tall,  thin,  intelligent  Swiss,  jilainly  dressed,  and 
having  a  shawl  thrown  over  her  shoulders.  Her 
English  was  scarcely  intelligible,  but  she  easily  un- 
(li'istood  me,  and  her  deafness  was  not  at  all  trouble- 


some. 


Handing  her  mv  card,  I  asked  to  see  General 
Sutter.  "I  know  he  is  ill,"  said  I,  "but  I  must  see 
him."  Taking  the  card,  she  showed  me  into  a  back 
])arlor  and  then  withdrew.  From  Mrs  Sutter's  man- 
ner, no  less  than  from  M-hat  had  been  told  me  at  tlie 
liotel,  I  was  extremely  fearful  that  I  had  come  too 
late,  and  that  all  of  history  that  house  contained  was 
ill  the  fevered  brain  of  a  dying  man. 

But  presently,  to  my  great  astonishment  and  delight, 
tlie  door  opened,  and  the  general  himself  entered  at 
a  brisk  pace.  He  appeared  neither  very  old  nor  very 
feo1)le.  The  chance  for  a  history  of  Sutter  Fort  was 
improving.  He  was  rather  below  medium  height, 
and  stout.  His  step  was  still  firm,  liis  bearing  sol- 
dierly, and  in  his  younger  days  he  must  have  been  a 
nau  of  much  endurance,  with  a  remarkably  fine  phy- 
s'']ue.  His  features  were  of  the  German  cast,  broad, 
lull  face,  fairly  intellectual  forehead,  with  white  hair, 
Itald  on  the  top  of  the  head,  white  side  whiskers, 
mustache,  and  imperial;  a  deep,  clear,  earnest  eye 
niot  yours  truthfully.  Seventy-five  years,  apparently, 
sat  upon  him  not  heavily.    He  was  suffering  severely 


:»  m 


In 


4G4 


HOME. 


from  rhenmatisin,  and  lie  used  a  cane  to  assist  liini  in 
M'alkini,^  about  the  liouse.  lie  complained  of  lailiig 
niemni y,  but  I  saw  no  indication  of  it  in  the  live  day.s' 
dictating'  wliicli  f(jllowcd. 

No  one  could  bo  in  (leneral  Sutter's  presence  long 
without  feeling  satisfied  that  if  not  of  the  slirewd">;t 
ho  was  an  ini)orn  gontleman.  lie  had  njoro  tho  m;!;i- 
ners  of  a  courtier  than  those  of  a  backwoodsmnn, 
with  this  diflbrcnce:  his  sjieecli  and  bearing  were  the 
promptings  of  a  kind  heart,  unaffected  and  sincere 
lie  roeeived  me  courteously,  and  listened  with  dec]) 
attention  to  my  plan  for  a  history  of  the  Pacilic 
States  as  I  laid  it  before  him,  perceiving  at  once  the 
difference  between  ni}^  work  and  that  of  local  Iiisto- 
rians  and  newspaper  r-eporters,  hj  whom  all  tho  latter 
part  of  his  life  Jie  had  been  besieged. 

"  I  have  been  robbed  and  ruined,"  he  exclaimed, 
"by  lawyers  and  politicians.  When  gold  was  discoN- 
ered  I  had  my  fortress,  my  mills,  my  farUiS,  leagncs  of 
land,  thousands  of  cattle  and  horses,  and  a  thousand 
tamed  natives  at  my  bidding.  Where  are  they  now  ( 
Stolen  I  ]\Iy  men  were  crushed  by  the  iron  heel  ni' 
civilization;  my  cattle  were  driven  off  by  hungry 
gold-seekers;  my  fort  and  mills  were  deserted  and 
left  to  decay;  my  lands  were  squatted  on  by  overland 
en^igrants;  and  finally  I  was  cheated  out  of  all  my 
property.    All  Sacramento  was  once  mine." 

"  General,"  said  I,  "this  appears  to  have  been  tlio 
common  fate  of  those  who  owned  vast  estates  at  tli(3 
coming  of  tho  Americans.  It  was  partly  owing  to 
the  business  inexperience  of  the  holders  of  land  grants, 
though  this  surely  cannot  apply  to  yourself,  and  })ai't]y 
to  the  unprincipled  tricksters  who  came  hither  to 
practise  in  courts  of  law.  The  past  is  past.  One 
thing  yet  remains  for  you  to  do,  which  is  to  sec 
your  wonderful  experiences  properly  placed  on  rccoi'd 
for  the  benefit  of  posterity.  You  fill  an  important 
niche  in  the  history  of  the  western  coast.  Of  certain 
events  you  are  the  embodiment — the  living,  walking 


SAX  FRANCISCO  AGAIN. 


465 


history  of  a  certain  time  and  locality.  Often  in  my 
labors  I  have  encountered  your  name,  your  deeds;  and 
let  mo  say  that  I  have  never  yet  heard  the  former 
iiRiitioncd  but  in  kindness,  nor  the  latter  except  in 
praise." 

I'ears  came  to  the  old  man's  eyes,  and  his  utterance 
was  choked,  as  he  signified  his  willingness  to  relate 
ti)  1110  all  he  knew. 

"  You  arrived,"  said  he,  "  at  a  most  opportune  mo- 
ment; I  am  but  just  out  of  l>ed,  and  I  feel  I  shall  be 
down  again  in  a  few  days,  when  it  will  be  impossible 
lor  mo  to  sec  or  converse  with  any  one." 

I  said  I  had  come  to  Litiz  on  this  special  business, 
aiul  asked  how  much  time  he  could  devote  to  it  each 

"All  the  time,"  ho  replied,  "if  you  will  conform  to 
my  liours.  Come  as  early  as  you  like  in  the  morning, 
but  we  nuist  rest  at  six  o'clock.     I  retire  early." 

Ton  hours  a  day  for  the  next  five  days  resulted  in 
tw(j  liundrcd  pages  of  manuscript,  which  was  subse- 
(juontly  bound  and  placed  in  the  library.  Forty 
pages  a  day  kept  me  very  busy,  and  at  night  I 
was  tired  enough.  IMeanwhile  my  devoted  bride  sat 
patiently  by,  sometimes  sewing,  always  lending  an 
attentive  car,  with  occasional  questions  addressed  to 
the  general. 

Tlience  we  proceeded  to  New  Haven,  and  shortly 
al'toi'ward  to  San  Francisco,  stopping  at  Stockbridge, 
Ijiiilalo,  Granville,  Chicago,  and  Omaha,  at  all  of 
whicli  places  we  had  friends  to  visit,  before  settling 
finally  to  work  again. 

With  kind  and  womanly  philosophy  Mrs  Bancroft 
on  reaching  San  Francisco  did  not  look  about  her 
with  that  captious  criticism  so  common  among  nevvly 
made  Californian  wives,  to  see  if  she  did  not  dislike 
the  country.  There  were  some  things  about  the  city 
uiiif|ue  and  interesting;  others  struck  her  strangely, 
and  some  disagreeably.  But  it  seemed  never  to  occur 
to  her  to  be  dissatisfied  or  homesick.     When  sho 

Ln.  Ind.    30 


4M 


HOME. 


r 


iiiarriod  a  man — so  the  ghost  of  the  idea  must  have 
(hinccd  round  her  lieart  and  brain,  for  I  am  sure  the 
thought  never  assumed  tanjjible  form — when  she  ni.ir- 
lied  a  man,  she  married  him,  and  there  was  the  end 
(»r  it,  so  far  as  shipping  her  happiness  upon  the  uc- 
cickints  of  his  surroundinofs  was  concerned.  Sweet 
subtilties  1  Happier  would  be  the  world  if  there  were 
moi'e  of  them. 

The  Palace  hotel  for  a  short  time  was  as  curious 
as  a  menagerie;  then  it  became  as  distasteful  as  a 
prison.  We  had  many  pleasant  little  dinner  i)aiti(s 
the  winter  we  were  there,  made  up  of  widely  <lilferent 
eharacters.  First  there  were  our  nearest  and  dearest 
friends,  tliose  who  had  always  bet^n  to  me  niwrc 
than  relatives.  Then  there  were  the  intelKetu- 
ally  social;  and  a  third  class  were  Spanish- speaking 
Californians  and  Mexicans,  among  whom  were  I'io 
Pico,  General  Vallejo,  Governor  Alvarado,  Governor 
Pachcco,and  the  Mexican  refugees, President  Iglesiiis, 
and  Senores  Prieto  and  Palacio  of  his  cabinet.  ]\lis 
Bancroft  began  the  study  of  Spanish,  and  made  ra[ii<l 
progress;   Kate  was  already  quite  at  home  in  tliat 


language. 


It  was  no  part  of  our  plan  immedia  >ly  to  domicile 
ourselves  in  any  fixed  residence.  Change  seenu'd 
nc(*essary  to  my  brain,  strained  as  it  was  to  its  utmost 
tension  perpetually.  It  was  about  the  only  rest  it 
would  take.  What  is  commonly  called  pleasure  was 
not  pleasure  so  long  as  there  was  so  mucli  work  piled 
up  behind  it.  It  must  shift  position  occasionally,  and 
feed  upon  new  surroundings,  or  it  became  restless 
and  unhealthy.  Then  we  had  before  us  much  trav- 
elling. The  vast  territory  whose  history  I  was  writing 
must  be  visited  in  its  several  parts,  some  of  tlioni 
many  times.  There  was  the  great  Northwest  Coast 
to  be  seen,  Oregon,  Washington,  and  British  Co- 
lumbia; there  was  Utah,  New  Mexico,  and  Arizona; 
likewise  the  sunny  south,  southern  California,  Mex- 
ico, and  Central  America.     Besides,  there  was  much 


REST  AT  LAST. 


467 


searching  of  archives  in  Europe  yet  to  be  done.  So 
wc  niUHt  content  ourselves  for  the  present  in  making 
the  world  our  home,  any  part  of  it  in  which  night 
lia]>pcncd  to  overtake  us.  Nevertheless,  after  a  year 
ill  Oakland,  and  a  winter  spent  by  Mrs  Bancroft  at 
Xt;\v  Haven,  I  purchased  a  rcsid«mec  on  Van  Ness 
ii\  onue,  where  for  many  long  and  busy  years  echoed 
llic  voices  of  little  ones,  watched  over  by  a  contented 
mother,  whose  happy  heart  was  that  heavenly  sun- 
.sliine  v/hich  best  pleaseth  God.  This  was  indeed 
Home. 


CHAPTER   XX. 


SAN   FRANCISCO   ARCHIVES. 


There  n-i  some  who  think  that  the  brooding  patience  which  a  great 
work  calls  lor  belonged  exclusively  to  an  earlier  period  than  ours. 

Lowell. 

During  the  first  ten  years  of  these  Ingatherings  and 
Industries  a  dark  cloud  of  discouragement  hung  over 
my  efforts,  in  the  form  of  four  or  live  hundred  Vdl- 
umes,  with  from  seven  hundred  to  nineteen  hunchvd 
pages  each,  of  original  documents,  lodged  in  the  ofliee 
of  the  United  States  surveyor-general  in  San  Fran- 
cisco. Though  containing  much  on  mission  atlairs, 
they  constituted  the  regular  archives  of  the  secular 
government  from  the  earliest  period  of  Californian 
history.  They  were  nearly  all  in  Spanish,  many  of 
them  in  very  bad  Spanish,  poorly  written,  and  dilK- 
cult  of  deciphering. 

On  the  secularization  of  the  missions,  that  is  to 
say  the  removal  of  national  property  from  missionaiv 
control,  in  many  instances  the  ruin  and  consequent 
breaking  up  of  mission  establishments  in  California, 
some  few  loose  papers  found  their  way  to  the  colk'H'o 
of  San  Fernando,  in  Mexico,  which  was  the  parent 
institution.  The  clergy  still  held  the  mission  church 
buildings,  and  in  some  instances  the  out-houses  and 
orchards;  and  the  mission  books,  proper,  remained 
naturally  in  their  control.  There  were  likewise  loi't 
at  some  of  the  missions  bundles  of  papers,  notably  at 
Santa  Biirbara;  but  these,  though  of  the  greatest  im- 
portance, were  not  very  bulky  in  comparison  to  the 
secular  archives. 

(468) 


THE  SURVEYOR-GEXERAL'S  OFFICE. 


469 


IMorc  to  be  considered  by  the  historian  were  the 
it'cords  and  documents  of  the  several  municipalities 
iilon^^  the  soutliern  seaboard,  which  with  the  [>apers 
Iccpt  l)y  retired  officials,  and  those  treasured  by  the 
(lit I  and  prominent  families,  formed  a  ver}^  impoj-tant 
ck'inent  in  the  marshalled  testimony.  Thus  matters 
stood  M'hen  California  was  made  a  state  of  the  great 
American  confederation;  and  when  counties  wei'c 
firmed  by  act  of  legislature  of  1850,  tlie  correspond- 
ence, papers,  and  I'ecoi'ds  of  local  officials  under  ^lexi- 
can  rule,  alcaldes,  jueccs  tie  priincra  iustuncia,  and 
others,  were  ordered  deposited  with  the  clerk  of  each 
county. 

The  United  States  government  took  possession  in 
1  SI 0-7  of  all  the  tcrritoi'ial  records  that  could  be 
I'liiuid — an  immense  mass,  though  by  no  means  all  that 
existed — and  in  1851  the  public  archives  in  all  parts 
of  C'alifoi-nia  were  called  in  and  placed  in  charge  of 
the  United  States  surveyor-general  in  San  Fi'an- 
ciseo,  and  of  them  ]Mr  11.  C.  Hopkins  was  made 
custodian.  Such  of  the  pueblo  and  ])residial  archives 
as  were  deemed  of  importance  to  the  general  govern- 
iiifiit  were  held  in  San  Francisco.  Many,  however, 
ol' great  historic  value  were  never  removed  from  their 
original  lodgments,  and  many  others  were  returned 
to  them,  for  of  such  material  much  was  i'ound  by  my 
searchers  in  various  places  at  different  times.  ^Vs 
these  archives  linally  stood  they  consisted  of  the  official 
<(>i  respondence  of  the  superior  and  other  authorities, 
<  ivil  and  financial,  military  and  ecclesiastic,  of  IMexico 
iiiiil  tlie  Californias,  from  the  formation  of  the  first 
mission  in  17G9,and  even  a  little  further  ba<-'k,  to  the 
time  California  was  admitted  into  the  union;  not 
colli] )l(^te,  but  full  during  parts  of  the  time  and  meagre 
ill  cthei"  parts.  As  will  be  seen  1  was  so  fortunate  as 
to  (il)tain  the  missing  records  from  other  soui'ces. 

When  E.  M.  Stanton  came  with  j)ower  from  Wash- 
itigion  to  attend  to  land  and  other  affairs  of  the  g<>v- 
ofiiiaent,  he  ordered  these  archives  bound.     Although 


470 


SAX  FRANCISCO  ARCHIVES. 


f 


. 


some  divisions  of  the  papers  were  made,  little  atten- 
tion was  paid  to  chronological  or  other  arrangement. 
Said  ]\Ir  Savage  to  me  after  a  preliminary  examina- 
tion: "The  whole  th'ng  is  a  jmnble;  so  far  as  their 
value  to  your  work  is  concerned,  or  your  being  able 
to  find,  by  searching,  any  particular  incident  of  any 
particular  period,  the  papers  might  as  well  be  in  hay- 
stack form." 

What  was  to  be  done?  The  thought  of  attacking 
this  great  dragon  of  these  investigations  had  been  for 
many  years  in  my  mind  as  a  nightmare,  and  while 
doggedly  pursuing  more  puny  efforts  I  tried  to  shako 
it  from  me,  and  not  think  of  it.  There  was  muck 
material  aside  from  that,  more  than  enough  for  my 
purpose,  perhaps ;  besides,  some  one  could  go  throuLjli 
the  mass  and  take  from  it  what  I  lacked  in  the  usual 
form  of  historical  notes. 

But  such  reasoning  would  not  do.  The  monster 
would  not  thus  be  frightened  away.  All  the  time,  to 
bo  honest  with  myself,  I  well  knew  that  I  must  liav(.> 
])ofore  me  all  existing  material  that  could  be  obtained, 
and  I  well  knew  what  'ijoinfj  throutjli'  such  a  stack 
of  papers  signified.  No;  one  of  the  chief  differences 
between  my  way  and  that  of  others  in  gathering  and 
arranging  facts  for  history,  one  of  the  chief  differences 
l)otween  the  old  method  and  the  new,  was,  in  so  lar 
as  possible,  to  have  all  my  material  together,  within 
instant  and  constant  reach,  so  that  I  could  place  l)eroro 
me  on  my  table  the  information  lodged  in  the  British 
Museum  beside  that  contained  in  the  archives  of 
Mexico,  and  compare  both  with  what  Spain  and  Cali- 
fornia could  yield,  and  not  be  obliged  in  the  midst  <»f 
my  investigations  to  go  from  one  library  to  another 
note-taking. 

And  under  this  method,  so  far  as  my  daily  and 
hourly  necessities  were  concerned,  this  immense  mass 
of  information  might  almost  as  well  be  in  N«>\a 
Scotia  as  on  Pine  street.  To  be  of  use  to  me  it  must 
be  in  my  library.      This  was  the  basis  on  which  my 


ABSTRACT  OF  THE  ARCHIVES. 


471 


work  was  laid  out,  and  only  by  adhering  to  this  plan 
could  it  be  accomplished. 

But  how  get  it  there?  The  government  would  not 
lend  it  me,  though  our  benign  uncle  has  committed 
more  foolish  acts.  There  was  but  one  way,  tlie  way 
pursued  in  smaller  operations — copy  it.  But  what  did 
that  mean,  to  *  copy  it '  ?  The  day  in  government  offices 
is  short;  a  copyist  might  return  from  twenty  to  forty 
foHos  per  diem ;  this,  averaged,  would  amount  to  per- 
haps three  volumes  a  year,  which  would  be  a  hundred 
years'  work  for  one  person;  and  this  merely  to  trans- 
fer the  material  to  my  library,  where  another  centui'y 
of  work  would  be  required  before  it  attained  the 
proper  form  as  condensed  and  classified  material  for 
history. 

Well,  then,  if  the  task  would  occupy  one  person  so 
long,  put  on  it  ten  or  twenty — this  is  the  way  my 
demon  talked  to  me.  But  the  surveyor's  office  would 
not  accommodate  so  many.  Not  to  dwell  upon  the 
sul)ject,  however,  the  matter  was  thus  acconiplislied: 
A  room  was  rented  near  the  surveyor-general's  (office, 
to  which  Mr  H.  G.  BoUins,  then  in  charge,  had  kindly 
gi'anted  permission  to  have  the  bound  volumes  taken 
as  required  by  the  copyists.  Tables  and  chairs  were 
then  purchased,  and  the  needed  writing-materials  sent 
round.  Then  by  a  system  of  condensation  and  epito- 
nuzing,  now  so  thoroughly  understood  that  no  time 
or  labor  need  be  lost,  under  the  efficient  direction  of 
j\fr  Savage  fifteen  Spaniards  were  able  in  one  year  to 
transfer  from  these  archives  to  the  library  all  that 
^Yas  necessary  for  my  purpose.  This  transfer  was  not 
made  in  the  form  of  notes;  the  work  was  an  abridu- 
iiK'ut  of  the  archives,  which  would  be  of  immense 
public  value  in  case  of  loss  by  fire  of  the  original  doc- 
uments. The  title  of  every  paper  was  given;  the 
more  important  documents  were  copied  in  full,  while 
the  others  were  given  in  substance  only.  The  work 
was  begun  the  15th  of  May  187G.  The  expense  was 
about  eighteen  thousand  dollars;    and  when   in  the 


'1.^1 


472 


SAN  FRANCISCO  ARCHIVES. 


I' ! 


^! 


I 

if  !f 

i 


form  of  bound  volumes  these  archives  stood  on  the 
shelves  of  the  library,  we  were  just  ready  to  begin 
extracting  historical  notes  from  them  in  the  usual 
way. 

This  transcribing  of  the  archives  in  the  United 
States  surveyor -general's  office  was  the  greatest 
single  effort  of  the  kind  ever  made  by  mo.  But  there 
Vv'cre  nmny  lesser  labors  in  the  same  direction,  botli 
before  and  afterward;  prominent  among  these  was 
the  epitomizing  of  the  archiepiscopal  arcliives. 

Learning  from  Doctor  Taylor  of  Santa  Barbara 
that  he  had  presented  the  most  reverend  Josepli  S. 
xVlcmany,  archbishop  of  San  Francisco,  for  the  cath- 
olic church,  with  a  quantit}''  of  valuable  })apcrs,  I 
applied  to  the  archbishop  for  permission  to  copy  thcni. 
He  did  not  feel  at  liberty  to  let  the  volumes  out  of 
his  possession.  "  I  shall  be  most  happy,  however,"  lie 
writes  me,  "  to  afford  every  facility  to  any  gentleman 
you  may  choose  to  send  to  my  humble  house  to  co[)y 
from  any  volume  any  pieces  which  may  suit  year 
work,  taking  it  for  granted  that  in  your  kindness 
you  will  let  me  see  before  publication  what  is  written 
on  religious  matters,  lest  unintentionally  sometliiiig 
might  be  stated  inaccurately,  which  no  doubt  you 
would  rectify."  It  is  needless  to  say  that  neither 
to  the  archbishop,  nor  to  any  person,  living  or  dead, 
did  I  ever  grant  permission  to  revise  or  change  my 
writings.  It  was  my  great  consolation  and  chief 
support  throughout  my  long  and  arduous  career,  that 
I  was  absolutely  free,  that  I  belonged  to  no  sect  vr 
party  to  which  I  must  render  account  for  any  exjires- 
sion,  or  to  whose  traditions  my  opinions  must  b(j\v. 
Sooner  than  so  hamper  myself,  1  would  have  consigned 
my  library  and  my  labors  to  perdition. 

It  appeared  to  me  a  kind  of  compact,  this  insinua- 
tion of  the  archbishop,  that  if  he  granted  me  pt  r- 
mission  to  copy  documents  which  were  the  property 
of  the  church,  they  should  not  be  used  in  evidence 


THE  ARCHIEPISCOPAL  ARCHIVES. 


473 


actainst  the  cliuich.  Now  with  the  church  I  have  not 
at  any  time  had  controversy.  Theology  was  not  my 
llu'mc.  I  never  could  treat  of  theology  as  it  is  done 
ordiriarily  in  pulpits,  walled  about  by  dogmas,  and  be 
coinpellcd  to  utter  other  men's  beliefs  whether  they 
wove  my  own  or  not.  I  should  have  no  pleasure  in 
speaking  or  writing  thus;  nor  is  there  any  power  on 
earth  which  would  compel  me  to  it. 

With  the  doctrines  of  the  church,  catholic  or  prot- 
ostant,  I  had  nothing  to  do.  With  the  doctrines  of 
])()litical  parties  as  such,  I  had  nothing  to  do.  It  was 
ill  men,  rather  than  in  abstract  opinion,  that  I  dealt. 
])Ocause  a  man  was  priest  or  partisan,  he  was  not 
necessarily  from  that  fact  good  or  bad.  In  so  far 
as  the  missionaries  did  well,  no  churclmian  was 
more  ready  to  praise;  wherein  they  did  evil,  my 
mouth  should  speak  it,  myself  being  judge.  But  all 
this  did  not  lessen  my  obligation  to  the  good  arcli- 
))isliop,  who  was  ever  most  kind  and  liberal  toward 
me,  and  whose  kindness  and  liberality  I  trust  I  have 
not  abused. 

'Die  documents  in  question  formed  five  books,  bound 
into  several  more  volumes.  They  consisted  mostly 
of  correspondence  by  the  missionaries  of  upper  and 
lower  California  among  themselves,  or  with  the  author- 
ities, both  civil  and  miiitar}',  in  Mexico  or  the  Cali- 
f)niias,  or  from  tlieir  college  of  San  Fernando;  and 
also  of  statistical  data  on  tlie  missions,  a  large  portion 
of  the  letters  and  statistics  beim»'  of  jjfreat  historical 
iin]i(>vtance. 

Mr  Savage  w'+h  three  copyists  performed  this 
labor  in  about  a  month. 

Whilst  the  work  of  abstracting  was  going  on,  the 
iiu'u  received  occasional  visits  irom  attaches  of  tlie 
Kvlosiastical  offices  in  the  mansion,  which  at  first  gave 
li-e  to  a  suspicion  in  the  mind  of  Mr  Savage  that 
hi'  was  watched.  But  nothing  occurred  to  make 
Ills  stay  disagreeable.  Some  inconvenience  was  i'elt 
hy  the  copyists  from  the  prohibition  by  Mr  Savage 


M 


'ml 


474 


SAN  FRANCISCO  ARCHIVES. 


I 


against  smoking  in  the  premises.  Tlicre  had  been  no 
objection  raised  in  the  house  against  the  practice; 
but  he  deemed  such  abstention  a  mark  of  respect  to 
the  archbishop  even  though  he  was  absent  a  fort- 
night. On  the  archbishop's  return  he  occasionally 
entered  the  room  for  some  document  from  his  desk, 
and  ever  had  a  kind  word  for  those  who  occupied  it. 
The  result  of  this  work,  which  was  concluded  early 
in  May  187G,  just  before  beginning  on  the  United 
States  surveyor-general's  archives,  may  be  seen  in 
the  Bancroft  Library,  in  three  books,  entitled  A rchi lo 
del  Arzohispado — Cartas  de  los  Misionc.ros  de  Cali- 
fornia, i.  ii.  iii.^  iii.^  iv.^  iv.'^  v. 

Writing  of  California  material  for  history  in  the 
public  journals  of  August  1877,  Mr  Oak  observes: 
"  First  in  importance  among  the  sources  of  iuforiiiii- 
tion  are  the  public  archives,  preserved  in  the  different 
offices,  of  nation,  state,  county,  and  city,  at  San  Fran- 
cisco, Sacramento,   San  Jose,  Salinas,  Los  Angek's, 
San  Diego,  and  to  a  slight  extent  in  other  towns. 
These   constitute  something  over  500   buUcy  tonics, 
besides  loose  papers,  in  the  aggregate  not  less  tliaii 
300,000  documents.     Of  the  nature  of  these  manu- 
scripts it  is  impossible  witiiin  present  limits  to  say 
more  than  that  they  are  the  original  orders,  corre- 
spondence, and  act-records  of  the  authorities — secular 
and  ecclesiastical,  national,  provincial,  departmental, 
territorial,  and  municipal — during  the  successive  rule, 
imperial  and  republican,  of  Spain,  Mexico,  and  tlio 
United  States,  from  17G8  to  1850.    After  the  lattri- 
date  there  is  little  in  the  archives  of  historic  valu(.' 
wliicli  has  not  found  its  way  into  print.    A  small  part 
of  these  papers  are  arranged  by  systems  which  vary 
from  tolerable  to  very  bad;   the  greater  part  boiuL;' 
thrown  together  with  a  sublime  disregard  to  both 
subject  and  chronology.     Of  their  value  there  is  no 
need  to  speak,  since  it  is  apparent  that  Californiau 
history  cannot  be  written  without  their  aid.     They 
are,  however,  practically  inaccessible  to  writers.    In 


ii 


THE  LAWYERS  AXD  THE  FRIARS. 


470 


land-commission  times  the  lawyers  sought  diligently 
for  information  of  a  certain  class,  and  left  many  guid- 
ing references,  which  the  student  may  find,  if  patient 
and  long-hved,  in  countless  legal  briefs  and  judicial 
decisions.  The  keepers  of  the  archives,  besides  aiding 
the  legal  fraternitv,  have  from  time  to  time  unearthed 
for  the  benefit  of  the  public  certain  documentary  curi- 
osities; yet  the  archives  as  a  whole  remain  an  unex- 
]>lored  and,  by  ordinary  methods,  unexplorablo  waste. 
Mr  Bancroft  has  not  attempted,  by  needle-in-the- 
liay-niow  methods,  to  search  the  archives  for  data  on 
])articular  points;  but  by  employing  a  large  auxiliary 
force  he  has  substantially  transferred  their  contents  to 
the  library.  Every  single  paper  of  all  the  300,000, 
whatever  its  nature  or  value,  has  been  read — de- 
ciphered would  in  many  cases  be  a  better  term; 
important  papers  have  been  copied;  loss  important 
documents  have  been  stripped  of  their  Spanish  vor- 
biasje,  the  substance  beino;  retained,  while  routine 
connnunications  of  no  apparent  value  have  been  dis- 
missed with  a  mere  mention  of  their  nature  and  date. 
"  Hardly  less  important,  though  much  less  bulky 
than  the  secular  records  above  referred  to,  are  the 
records  of  the  friars  in  the  mission  archives.  At  most 
of  these  establishments — wrecks  of  former  Fran- 
ciscan prosperity — there  remain  in  care  of  the  parish 
n'iests  only  the  quaint  old  leather-bound  records  of 
>irths,  marriages,  deaths,  etc.  At  some  of  the  ox- 
iiiissions  even  these  records  have  disappeared,  having 
been  destroyed  or  passed  into  private  hands.  It  was 
common  opinion  that  the  papers  of  the  missionary 
])adres  had  been  destroyed,  or  sent  to  Mexico  and 
Spain.  Another  theory  was  that  of  men  who  myste- 
riously'- hinted  at  immense  deposits  of  documentos  at 
the  old  missions,  jealously  guarded  from  secular  eyes 
and  hands. 

"  Both  views  are  absurdly  exaggerated.  The  mis- 
sion archives  were  never  very  bulky,  and  are  still 
comparatively  complete.     The  largest  collections  are 


I 


476 


SAN  FRANCISCO  ARCHIVES. 


;? 


in  the  possession  of  the  Franciscan  order,  and  of 
the  archl)ishop  of  California.  Other  small  collections 
exist  at  different  places,  and  not  a  few  papers  have 
passed  into  private  liee})in'Lj.  The  archives  of  Spain 
and  Mexico  must  be  ransacked,  but  the  documents 
thus  brought  to  light  can  neither  bo  so  many  nor  so 
important  as  has  popularly  been  imagined. 

''  Xot  all  the  records  of  early  California,  by  any 
nieons,  are  to  be  found  in  the  public  offices.  Even 
official  documents  were  widely  scattered  during  the 
American  conquest  or  before;  the  new  officials  col- 
lected and  preserved  all  they  could  gain  possession  of, 
but  many  were  left  in  private  hands,  and  have  re- 
mained there.  The  private  orrespondence  of  |)romi- 
nent  men  on  public  events  is,  moreover,  quite  as 
valuable  a  source  of  information  as  their  official  com- 
jaunications.  Mr  Bancroft  has  made  an  earnest  cffijit 
to  gather,  preserve,  and  utilize  these  private  and  family 
arcliives.  There  Avere  many  obstacles  to  be  overcome; 
Californians,  not  always  without  reason,  were  distrust- 
ful of  Gringo  schemes;  old  ^9rtjf>e/(.vs'  that  had  so  long 
furnished  material  for  cujaritos,  suddenly  acquired 
a  great  pecuniary  value;  interested  persons,  in  some 
cases  by  misrepresentation,  induced  well  disposed  na- 
tives to  act  against  their  inclinations  and  interests. 
Yet  efforts  in  this  direction  have  not  been  wasted, 
si  .ce  they  have  already  produced  about  seventy-five 
vuiames,  containing  at  least  twenty  thousand  docu- 
ments, a  very  large  proportion  of  which  are  impor- 
tant and  unique. 

"  I  have  not  included  in  the  preceding  class  some 
fifty  volumes  of  old  military  and  commercial  records, 
which  are  by  no  means  devoid  of  interest  and  value, 
though  of  such  a  nature  that  it  would  be  hardly  fair 
to  add  them  by  the  page,  without  explanation,  to  the 
above  mentioned  documents.  It  must  not  be  under- 
stood that  these  contributed  collections  of  original 
papers  are  exclusively  Spanish;  on  the  contrary,  many 
of  the  volumes  relate  to  the  conquest,  or  to  the  jieriod 


MEMOIRS  OF  PEOXEERS. 


477 


iinmcfliatcly  preceding  or  following,  and  bear  tho 
names  of  pioneers  in  wliose  veins  llows  no  drop  of 
Latin  blood — for  instance,  tbe  official  and  private 
correspondence  of  Thomas  0.  Larkin,  in  twelve  thick 
volumes. 

"California  is  a  new  country;  lier  annals  date  l)ack 
hut  little  more  than  a  century;  most  of  her  sister 
states  are  still  younger;  therefore  personal  i-eminis- 
conces  of  men  and  women  yet  living  form  an  element 
1>V  no  means  to  be  disregarded  by  the  historian. 
While  I  am  writing  there  are  to  be  found — thoiiijli 
y('ar  by  year  death  is  reducing  their  number^ — men 
of  good  intelligence  and  memory  who  have  seen  Cali- 
fornia pass  from  Spain  to  Mexico,  and  from  ^Texico 
to  the  United  States.  Manv  of  this  class  will  leave 
manuscript  histories  which  will  be  found  only  in  tho 
Bancroft  Library. 

"Tho  personal  memoirs  of  pioneers  not  native  to 
the  soil  are  not  regarded  as  in  any  respect  less  de- 
sirable than  those  of  hijos  del  pais,  although  their 
acts  and  the  events  of  their  time  arc  much  more  fully 
recorded  in  print.  Hundreds  of  pioneer  sketches  are 
to  be  found  in  book  and  pampldot,  and  especially  in 
the  newspaper;  yet  great  efforts  are  made  to  obtain 
original  statements.  Some  hold  back  because  it  is 
ditlicult  to  convince  them  that  the  history  of  Cali- 
fornia is  bein<x  written  on  a  scale  which  will  make 
their  personal  knowledge  and  experience  available 
and  valuable.  Others  exhibit  an  indolence  and  indif- 
ference in  the  matter  impossible  to  overcome." 


CHAPTER  XXL 


HISTORIC  EESEAIICHES  IN  THE  SOUTH. 


Every  man  must  work  according  to  hia  own  method. 

Agasaiz. 

Southern  California  was  rightly  regarded  as  the 
depository  of  the  richest  historic  material  north  of 
Mexico.  And  the  reason  was  obvious:  In  settlement 
and  civilization  that  region  had  the  start  of  Oreofon 
by  a  half  century  and  more;  there  were  old  nxn 
there,  and  family  and  public  archives.  The  chief 
historic  adventure  in  that  quarter  was  when,  with  Mr 
Oak  and  my  daughter  Kate,  early  in  1874  I  took 
the  steamer  for  San  Diego  and  returned  to  San  Fran- 
cisco by  land. 

Indeed,  as  I  became  older  in  the  work  I  felt  more 
and  more  satisfied  that  it  required  of  me,  both  in 
person  and  by  proxy,  much  travel.  True,  mine  was 
neither  a  small  Held,  nor  a  narrow  epoch  highly  elab- 
orated, upon  the  many  several  scenes  of  which,  like 
Froude  at  Simancas,  Freeman  on  his  battle-fields,  or 
Macaulay  in  Devonshire,  Londonderry,  or  Scotland, 
I  might  spend  months  or  seasons  studying  the  ground 
and  elucidating  the  finer  points  of  prospect  antl  })osi- 
tion;  yet  where  so  much  was  to  be  described  much 
observation  was  necessary. 

It  was  during  this  journey  south  that  Benjamin 
Hayes,  formerly  district  judge  at  Los  Angeles,  later  a 
resident  of  San  Diego,  and  for  twenty-five  years  an  en- 
thusiastic collector  and  preserver  of  historic  data,  not 
only  placed  me  in  possession  of  all  his  collection,  but 

(478) 


THE  ILVYES  COLLECTION. 


470 


pavo  mo  Ilia  licart  with  it,  and  continued  to  interest 
liinisclf  in  my  work  as  if  it  were  his  own,  and  to  add 
to  liis  eollcctio!!  wliile  in  my  possession  as  if  it  was 
still  in  his.  This  was  fortmiate,  for  I  saw  much  work 
1()  he  done  at  Los  Angeles,  Santa  Biirhara,  and  else- 
where, and  I  hardly  knew  how  to  perform  it. 

Of  course  to  mo  it  seemed  as  if  Judge  Hayes 
during  his  life  performed  for  his  country,  for  the 
world,  for  posterity,  a  work  beside  which  sitting  upon 
a  ju<hcial  bench  and  deciding  cases  was  no  more  tlian 
catching  flies.  For  the  first  quarter-century  of  this 
country's  history  under  American  rule,  beginning  with 
a  journal  kept  while  crossing  the  continent  in  1849, 
ho  had  been  a  diligent  collector  of  documents  touch- 
ing the  history  of  southern  California;  and  his  collec- 
tion of  manuscripts,  and  especially  of  scraps  from  books 
and  early  newspapers,  systematically  arranged,  and  ac- 
companied frequently  by  manuscript  notes  of  his  own 
making,  was  very  extensive.  It  embraced  among  the 
manuscript  portion  a  copy  of  the  mission  book  of  San 
])iego;  a  copy  of  an  autogr-^ph  manuscript  of  Father 
Junipero  Serra,  giving  a  history  of  the  missions  up  to 
1775;  a  similar  manuscript  history  by  Father  Lasuen 
of  the  mission  up  to  1784;  copies  of  all  the  more  im- 
portant documents  of  the  pueblo  archives  from  1829; 
a  complete  index  made  by  liimself  in  18oG  of  all  the 
cai-ly  archives;  manuscript  accounts  of  Judge  Hayes' 
own  travels  in  various  parts  of  the  southern  country; 
reports  of  evidence  in  important  law  cases,  illustrating 
history,  and  many  other  like  papers.  There  were  some 
fifty  or  sixty  scrap-books,  besides  bundles  of  assorted 
and  unassorted  scraps,  all  stowed  in  trunks,  cupboards, 
and  standing  on  book-shelves.  The  collection  was 
formed  with  a  view  of  writing  a  history  of  southern 
California,  but  by  this  time  the  purpose  on  the  part  of 
Judge  Hayes  was  well  nigh  impracticable  by  reason 
of  ago  and  ill-health. 

The  pueblo  archives  which  have  been  preserved  do 
not  extend  back  further  than    1829.     They  consist 


4S0 


HISTORIC  RESEARCHES  IX  THE  SOUM. 


I  I 


i,H 


of  more  or  less  coinpleto  records  of  the  [)rocee(]ings  of 
militiiry  comandanffs,  alcaldes,  ai/itntamiciifos,  pre- 
fi'cfos,  ami  jucccs  do  paz,  toj^ether  with  corres[)()n(lt!iico 
between  the  several  town  officials,  between  the  oflicials 
of  this  and  other  towns,  and  correspondence  with  ilio 
homo  |:]fovernment  of  Spain  or  Mexico,  hc'iw^  the  orli;!- 
nals  of  letters  received  ai;tl  copies  of  those  sent.  Tlicy 
include  some  ilaminjT  proclamations  by  Califoiiiiaii 
govin'nors,  and  interesting  correspondence  relative  to 
the  times  when  American  encroachments  had  begun. 
D(vniments  referring  to  the  mission  are  few  and  biief, 
and  consist  of  correspondence  between  the  secular  and 
ecclesiastical  authorities  respecting  the  capture  of  es- 
caped native  converts.  There  are  yet  preserved,  how- 
ever, documents  relating  to  the  missions  while  in  tlio 
hands  of  administrators  subsequent  to  their  seculai- 
ization.  There  arc  several  interesting  reports  of  civil 
and  criminal  trials,  illustrating  the  system  of  juris- 
prudence during  the  early  times. 

These  papers  were  preserved  in  the  county  archives, 
in  the  clerk's  office,  in  bundles,  as  classified  by  Judgo 
Hayes.  Copies  of  all  these  documents  in  any  wiso 
important  for  historical  purposes  formed  part  of  Judge 
Hayes'  collection. 

livery  mission,  besides  its  books  of  accounts,  it:^ 
papers  tiled  in  packages,  and  any  historical  or  statis- 
tical records  which  the  priests  might  choose  to  wiiti>, 
kept  what  were  called  the  mission  books,  consisting- 
of  records  of  conversions,  marriages,  baptisms,  con- 
firmations, and  bi  rials.  By  a  revolt  of  the  natives 
in  1775  San  Dieg  mission,  with  all  its  records,  wns 
destroyed.  In  op  ling  new  mission  books,  with  liis 
own  hands  Fathci  Tunipero  Serra  wrote  on  the  iirst 
pages  of  one  of  the  ?  an  historical  sketch  of  the  mis- 
sion from  17G9,  the  ate  of  its  establishment,  to  177.3, 
the  date  of  its  dest  action.  He  also  restored,  so  far 
as  possible  from  memory,  the  list  of  marriages  and 
deaths.  The  mission  book  thus  prefaced  by  the  presi- 
dent is  preserved  by  the  curate  at  San  Diego. 


BKNJAMIX  llAYHS. 


4S1 


Tlic  <|U»'Sii()n  now  was  liow  to  trunsfor  this  ricli 
mass  of  liistorical  iiiatciial  to  my  lil>rary,  wlicire,  iiot- 
witlistandiiii^  the  aH'octioii  with  which  he  wiio  had 
lahoi'cd  over  thu  work  so  loii;^  must  rt'^ai'd  it,  1  could 
easily  pcrsuado  myself  was  the  proucr  ])lacc  for  it. 
( 'iillini,'  at  tho  house,  we  fortunately  found  Judij^o 
Hayes  at  home,  and  were  warndy  welcomi'd.  I  had 
itl'ten  met  him  in  San  Francisco,  and  he  was  familiar 
with  my  literary  doings.  This  call  we  made  a  short 
(iHc,  arran<nn<^  for  a  Ioniser  meetin<_r  in  the  afternoon. 

J  Jack  i'njni  our  luncheon,  we  were  again  heartily 
wi  Icomed,  and  taking  our  note-hooks  we  were  soon 
vigorously  at  work  endeavoring  to  transfix  some  small 
]itirtion  of  the  vast  fund  of  information  that  fell 
gHlily  from  tho  lips  of  the  ancient.  Fortunately  for 
Us.  old  men  love  to  talk  ab(jut  themselves;  so  tiiat 
while  we  were  noting  valuable  facts  he  kindly  filled 
the  interludes  with  irrelevant  matter,  thus  keeping  us 
pretty  well  together. 

In  this  way  we  gathered  some  important  incidents 
relative  to  earl}'  establishments  and  their  records,  but 
soon  became  dissatisfied  with  tho  slowness  of  tho 
method,  for  at  that  rate  we  could  easily  spend  months 
there,  and  years  upon  our  journey  back  to  San  Fran- 
cisco. Finally  I  approached  the  subject  nearest  my 
lieart. 

"  Judge,"  said  I,  "your  collection  should  be  in  my 
liltrary.  There  it  would  be  of  some  value,  of  very 
great  value;  but  isolated,  even  should  you  write  your 
pioposed  history,  the  results,  I  fear,  would  be  unsatis- 
i'actory  to  you.  I  should  not  know  where  to  begin  or 
to  end  such  a  work." 

"I  am  satisfied  I  shall  never  write  a  history," 
lie  replied  somewhat  sadly.  "The  thne  has  slipped 
away,  and  I  am  now  too  feeble  for  steady  laborious 
apiilieation;  besides,  I  have  to  furnish  bread  for  cer- 
tain mouths,"  pointing  to  a  bright  black-eyed  little 
gill  who  kept  up  an  incessant  clatter  with  her  com- 
[)anions  at  the  door. 

Lit.  Ind.    31 


m 


£''■'» 


482 


HISTORIC  RESEARCHES  IN  THE  SOUTH. 


"Not  only  slioiilfl  I  liave  the  results  of  your  labor 
up  to  this  time,"  I  now  remarked,  "but  your  active 
aid  and  cooperation  for  the  future.  It  is  just  such 
knowledge  as  yours  that  I  am  attempting  to  save  and 
utilize.  Second  my  efforts,  and  let  me  be  your  his- 
torian and  biographer." 

"  I  know  that  my  material  should  be  added  to  youi's," 
he  replied.  "It  is  the  only  proper  place  for  it — tlie 
only  place  I  should  be  content  to  see  it  out  of  my 
own  possession.  I  would  gladly  give  it  you,  did  not 
I  n(!ed  money  so  badly.  It 'is  not  pleasing  to  me  to 
make  merchandise  of  such  labors." 

"  I  do  not  ask  you  to  give  me  your  collection,"  T 
returned;  "  I  will  gladly  pay  you  for  it,  and  still  hold 
myself  your  debtor  '  >  the  same  extent  as  if  you  gave 
it.  I  appreciate  your  feelings  fully,  and  will  cndoavor 
to  do  in  every  respect  now  and  in  the  future  as  I 
should  wish  you  to  do  were  our  positions  changed." 

"  It  may  seem  a  trifle  to  give  up  my  accumulations 
for  money,  but  it  is  not.  It  is  the  delivering,  still- 
born, of  my  last  and  largest  hope.  Yet  it  will  be  some 
satisfaction  to  feel  that  they  are  in  good  hands,  wIkmv 
their  value  will  be  reckoned  in  other  measureineiit 
than  that  of  dollars.  I  cannot  die  and  leave  them  to 
be  scattered  liere.  You  may  have  them;  and  with 
them  take  all  that  T  can  do  for  your  laborious  undei- 
taking  as  long  as  I  live." 

And  he  was  as  good  as  his  word.  We  did  not  stdp 
long  to  consider  tbi  price  I  should  pay  him;  and 
immediately  the  bargain  was  consummated  we  went 
to  work,  and  took  a  careful  account  of  every  volume, 
and  every  package  of  documents,  noting  their  (Con- 
tents. Those  that  were  complete  w^e  packed  in  boxes 
and  shipped  to  San  Francisco;  such  as  Judge  Hayes 
had  intended  to  make  additions  to  were  left  with  liini. 
The  volumes  to  be  completed  and  sent  in  due  timo 
made  their  appearance.  "Judge  Hayes'  books,  sent 
up  yesterday,"  writes  Mr  Oak  the  15th  of  ^lay  1 STT), 
"are  in  some  respects  more  valuable  than  anything 


SAN  DIEGO  ARCHIVES. 


4S3 


lie  has  done  before.  One  volume  contains  about  two 
liinuh'ed  photographs  of  places  and  men  in  southoi-n 
California."  All  unfinislicd  work  was  well  and  thor- 
oiiglily  completed,  he  doing  more  in  every  instance 
than  he  had  promised  to  do;  and  when  in  1877  ho  died, 
lie  was  still  engaged  in  making  historical  abstracts 
I'or  me  from  the  county  records  of  Los  Angeles. 
When  there  shall  appear  upon  Californian  soil  a  race 
capable  of  appreciating  such  devotion,  then  will  the 
name  of  Benjamin  Hayes  be  honored. 

It  was  the  23d  of  Februarj^  that  this  important 
])urchase  was  consunmiated.  San  Diego  possessed 
ibw  further  attractions  for  me  in  the  line  of  literary 
acquisitions;  that  is  to  say,  this  collection,  \\'ith  so 
important  a  man  as  Judge  Haves  enlisted  in  mv 
hchalf,  was  a  sweeping  accomplishment,  whi(!h  would 
amply  reward  me  for  the  time  and  money  expended  in 
the  entire  excursion  should  nothing  more  come  of  it. 
For  tills  collection  was  by  far  the  most  important  in 
tlie  state  outside  of  my  own;  and  this,  added  to  mine, 
would  forever  place  my  library,  so  far  as  com})etiti()n 
ill  original  California  material  was  concerned,  beyond 
the  possibilities.  The  books,  packages,  list  of  copies 
(if  the  county  archives,  and  manuscripts,  as  we  paclvcd 
them  for  shipment,  numbered  three  hundred  and 
sevonty-seven;  though  from  number  little  idea  can  he 
lonned  of  value,  as,  for  example,  a  volume  la1)ello(l 
Prlrate  Hours,  consisting  chiofiy  of  manuscripts  con- 
taining Judge  Hayes'  not^  s  of  travel  over  the  state 
at  (lilfei-ent  times,  written  by  one  thoroughly  familiar 
with  public  and  private  affairs,  by  one  Avho  saw  far 
into  things,  and  who  at  the  time  himself  contemplated 
history- writing,  might  bo  worth  a  hundred  other 
voknnes. 

Of  all  the  mission  archives  none  were  of  more 
importance  than  those  of  San  Diego,  this  being  the 
initial  point  of  early  Alta  California  observation. 
1)1  sides  historical  proclivities,  Judge  Hayes  loved 
.science.     He  had  taken  meieoroloarical  observations 


484 


HISTORIC  RESEARCHES  IX  THE  SOUTH. 


Hii; 
'■*l!|: 


since  1850,  and  took  an  interest  in  the  botany  of  the 
country.  In  all  these  thinjLJfs  he  not  only  collected 
and  arranged,  but  he  disxcsted  and  Avrotc. 

Several  days  were  occupied  in  this  negotiation,  in 
studying  the  contents  and  character  of  the  purchase, 
and  in  sending  over  boxes  from  New  Town,  and  pudc- 
ing  and  shipping  thera.  It  was  a  hard  day's  work, 
beginning  at  seven  o'clock,  and  during  which  we  did 
not  stop  to  cat,  to  catalogue  and  pack  the  collec- 
tion. Taking  up  one  after  another  of  his  companion- 
creations,  fondly  the  little  old  man  handled  thoni; 
affectionately  he  told  their  history.  Every  paper, 
every  page,  was  to  him  a  hundred  memories  of  a 
hundred  breathing  realities.  These  were  not  to  him 
dead  facts;  they  were,  indeed,  his  life. 

When  we  beu^an  we  thoujjht  to  finish  in  a  few  hour>, 
but  the  obsequies  of  this  collection  were  not  to  be  so 
hurriedly  performed;  surely  a  volume  which  had  cost 
a  year's  labor  was  worthy  a  priestly  or  paternal  bene- 
diction on  taking  its  final  departure. 

Dui'ing  these  days  at  San  Diego  I  visited  and  ex- 
amined everything  of  possible  historic  interest.  I 
wandered  about  tlie  hills  overlooking  the  numerous 
town  sites,  crossed  to  False  bay,  entered  the  ceiii'- 
tery,  and  copied  the  inscriptions  on  the  stones  that 
marked  the  resting-place  of  the  more  honored  dead. 
In  company  with  Mr  Oak  I  called  at  the  counly 
clerk's  oihce  to  see  what  documents  were  tliero. 
No  one  seemed  to  know  anything  about  them.  Such 
as  were  there  were  scattered  loosely  in  boxi'S  and 
drawers,  some  at  New  Town,  and  some  at  (Ml 
Town.  When  we  learned  in  what  sad  conlusiiiii 
they  were,  we  were  all  the  more  thaidvful  we  had 
co[)ies  of  them.  Judge  Hayes  began  copying  tlu'.so 
archives  in  185G. 

At  night  we  entered  in  our  journals,  of  which  ^li" 
Oak,  Kate,  and  myself  each  kept  one,  the  events  (•! 
the  day.  Oak  and  I  each  wrote  about  one  hundred 
and  fifty  pages  during  the  tiip,  and  Kate  forty  [lages. 


DEPARTURE  FROM  SAN  DIEGO. 


485 


On  our  return  to  San  Francisco  these  journals  were 
tloposited  in  the  library. 

Early  Wednesday  morning  wc  walked  over  to 
Old  Town  to  visit  Father  Ubach,  the  parish  priest, 
Avith  whom  wc  had  an  appointment.  I  was  shown 
tlie  mission  books,  consisting  of  the  Book  of  Bap- 
tisms, in  four  volumes,  the  first  volume  having  three 
liuiidred  and  ninety-six  folios  and  extending  down  to 
18i!2.  The  other  three  volumes  were  not  paged; 
tluy  continued  the  record  to  date.  The  Book  of 
]\larriages  was  in  one  volume  and  complete  to  date. 
Three  volumes  comprised  the  Book  of  Deaths,  and 
Olio  volume  the  Book  of  Confii'mations.  Aside  from 
the  sketcli  by  Junipero  Serra,  a  copy  of  which  was  in 
tlic  H^ayes  collection,  the  volumes  were  of  no  historic 
value,  Ijeino'  merely  lists  of  names  with  dates. 

Eaeli  year  the  bishop  of  the  diocese  had  visited  tlio 
missions  and  certified  to  the  correctness  of  the  records; 
consequently  the  bishop's  signature  occurred  in  all 
tlic  Ijooks  at  rei^ular  intervals,  and  from  which  en- 
tries  many  bisho[)S  might  be  named.  It  is  worthy  of 
n mark  that  in  the  mission  books  California  is  always 
divided  into  Superior  and  Inferior,  instead  of  Baja 
and  Alta  as  by  later  Spaniards.  Father  Ubach  in- 
formed us  of  a  manuscript  Indian  vocabulary  pre- 
s(M'ved  at  the  mission  of  San  Juan  Bautista;  also  a 
manuscript  of  his  own  on  the  natives  of  his  parish, 
•  it"  wliicli  there  were  then  twelve  hundred.  This  latter 
manuscript  was  in  the  Hayes  collection,  and  hence  a 
part  of  my  purchase.  Fatlier  Ubach  kindly  gave  us 
ktteis  to  the  padres  at  San  Juan  Capistrano  and  San 
.hum  Bautista. 

Dijiarting  from  San  Diego,  we  called  at  the  mis- 
sions and  saw  all  the  early  residents  possible,  notably 
Cave  J.  Coutts  and  John  Foster,  at  their  respective 
laiichos  near  San  Luis  Key,  from  wlunn  we  received 
cucoiiragemcnt  and  valuable  information. 

When  the  Reverend  Thomas  Fro<»;nall  Dibdin  was 
at  Havre  on  his  bibliographical  tour,  he  was  told  by 


Pf« 


486 


HISTORIC  RESEARCHES  IX  THE  SOUTH. 


the  booksellers  among  whose  shops  he  hunted  that 
lie  should  have  been  there  when  the  allies  hrst  pos- 
sessed themselves  of  Paris  if  he  wished  to  find  rai-ities. 
Had  he  been  there  at  the  time  named,  another  date 
still  further  back  would  have  been  mentioned;  and  so 
on  until  he  had  been  sent  back  to  the  beijfinninij:. 

"Who  shall  restore  us  the  years  of  the  past?"  cried 
Horace,  and  Virgil,  and  Livy;  cried  the  first  of  men, 
and  that  before  there  was  scarcely  any  past  at  all. 
Tlie  Reverend  Thomas  Fromiall  Dibdin  was  not  tliere, 
and  all  the  booksellers  of  France  could  not  restore 
the  occasion,  could  not  arrest  the  present  or  call  up 
the  past.  And  I  am  of  opinion  that  to  the  collector 
of  rarities  there  would  have  been  little  difference 
whether  he  had  lived  or  had  been  in  any  particular 
place  iift}^  or  five  hundred  years  ago.  These  Havre 
booksellers  seemed  to  have  forgotten  that  at  the  time 
what  now  are  rarities  wei-e  easily  obtained ;  they  were' 
not  rarities;  that  all  which  is  rare  with  us  was  once 
common,  and  that  whatever  is  preserved  of  that 
which  to  us  is  common  will  some  day  be  rare  and 
expensive. 

Thus  it  was  with  me  at  Los  Angeles.  Had  I  been 
there  at  the  cominsT  of  the  Americans  I  miirlit  liave 
obtained  documents  by  the  bale,  so  I  was  told,  and 
have  freighted  a  vessel  with  them.  Had  I  even  been 
tliere  ten  vears  aj^o  I  mi<j[ht  have  secured  no  incoii- 
siderable  quantity;  but  during  this  time  many  heads 
of  old  families  had  died,  and  their  papers,  with  the 
long  accunuilations  of  rubbish,  had  been  burned. 

Most  of  this  was  fiction,  or  ignorant  exaggeration. 
At  the  time  of  the  secularization  there  had  accinnu- 
lated  at  the  several  missions  the  materials  from  wliiili 
might  have  been  sifted  not  only  their  complete  historv. 
but  thousands  of  interesting  incidents  illustrative  nt' 
that  peculiar  phase  of  society.  These  once  scatteit  d 
and  destroyed,  there  never  was  any  considerable 
quantity  elsewhere.  Old  Californian  families  were 
not  as  a  lule  sufficiently  intelligent  to  write  or  recei\e 


AT  LOS  ANGELES. 


48^ 


many  important  historical  documents,  or  to  discrimi- 
nate and  preserve  writings  valuable  as  historical 
(jvidence. 

Undoubtedly  at  the  death  of  a  paterfamilias,  in  some 
instances,  the  survivors  used  the  papers  he  had  ])re- 
scrved  in  the  kindling  of  fires,  in  the  wrapping  of 
articles  sent  away,  or  in  the  making  of  cigarettes;  but 
that  during  the  century  of  Spanish  occupation  in  Cali- 
iurnia  much  historical  material  had  accunmlated  any- 
where except  in  government  otHces  and  at  the  missions 
I  do  not  believe.  And  furthermore,  wherever  it  had 
so  happened  that  a  few  family  papers  had  been  pre- 
served, upon  any  manifestation  of  interest  in  or  etlbrt 
to  obtain  possession  of  them,  their  quantity  and  im- 
])()rtance  were  greatly  magnilied.  In  such  cases  threti 
documents  filled  a  trunk,  and  a  package  a  foot  square 
was  enlarged  by  rumor  to  the  size  of  a  bedroom. 

Charming  Los  Angeles!  California's  celestial  city! 
She  of  the  angels!  and,  indeed,  that  very  day  wq 
found  one,  a  dark-eyed,  bedianionded  angel,  in  the 
shape  of  a  sweet  sehora  with  a  million  of  dollars  and 
a  manuscriijt.  Chubbv  as  a  cherub  she  was,  and  OTace- 
lul  tor  one  so  short;  and  though  her  eyes  were  as 
luight  as  her  diamonds  when  first  they  encountered 
yours,  lingeringly  they  rested  there  until  they  faded 
somewhat  in  dreamy  languor.  She  w^as  a  poem  of 
pastoral  Califoruia,  and  her  life  was  a  song  of  nature, 
lireathing  of  aromatic  orange  groves,  of  vine-clad  hills, 
and  olive  orchards,  all  under  soft  skies  and  amid 
ocean-tempered  airs.  There  was  no  indication  in  the 
warm  un  wrinkled  features  of  a  mind  strained  bj  ovcr- 
s(,udy,  such  as  is  frequently  seen  in  a  Boston  beauty. 
As  it  was,  suitors  were  thick  enough;  there  were 
[ilentj-  of  men  who  would  take  lier  for  a  million  of  dol- 
lars, to  say  iiothin:^  of  the  manuscript. 

Aside  from  laclv  of  intellect,  for  angels  are  not 
spi.'ciall}^  intellectual,  in  all  candor  I  must  confess 
that,  apart  from  of  her  beautiful  robes,  lor  she  was 
tilegantly  dressed,  her  diamonds,  her  million  of  dol- 


ii 

;, 

ili| 

;  1 

f'-l 

pi 

ill 

iii 

mU 

li^iHH 

-H 

IMJ 

B 

488 


HISTORIC  RESE^VRCIIES  IN  THE  SOUTH. 


i|| 

111! 


1 

'1       '     l 

I    ,   1 

i  ''■ 

:i      '\     i 

Hi 

lars,  and  lier  manuscript,  somewhat  of  the  angelic 
cliarm  would  have  been  lost,  for  she  was  close  upon 
fortv,  and  a  widow.  He  who  ha^'  been  Abel  Stearns 
had  called  her  wife,  and  Juan  Bandini,  daut^hter. 

Not  far  from  the  Pico  house,  in  a  long  low  adobe 
whose  front  door  opened  from  a  back  piazza,  dwelt 
this  lady,  to  whom  Colonel  Coutts  had  given  me  a 
letter,  with  her  mother  Mrs  Bandini,  Innnediately 
after  dinner  we  inquired  our  way  to  the  house,  and 
presenting  ourselves  asked  for  Mrs  Stearns.  She 
was  not  in:  that  is  to  say,  the  seraph  was  sleeping 
for  a  pair  of  bright  evening  eyes.  "J'o  the  relict  of 
Juan  Bandini  we  did  not  deign  to  make  known  our 
errand.  At  seven  our  eyes  should  feast  upon  her  of 
the  million  and  manuscript. 

At  seven;  we  were  punctual.  Radiant  as  Venus 
she  sat  Ijetween  her  mother  and  a  withen.xl  lovci-. 
The  ladies  were  both  of  them  far  too  elegant  to  spoaic 
English.  We  presented  our  letter,  which  was  to  make 
our  patu  to  the  papers  easy.  Ah!  the  manuscript  df 
her  father  ?  It  was  her  mother,  Mrs  Bandini,  to  whom 
we  sliould  speak:  all  the  documents  of  Don  Jnaii 
belonged  to  her. 

This  was  a  sad  mistake;  and  wonderfully  quick 
with  the  intelligence  shifted  the  seraphic  lido  from 
the  sparkling  daughter-widow  to  the  now  exceedingly 
interestini];'  and  attractive  mother-widow.  It  was  a 
great  waste,  all  the  precious  ointment  of  our  cl;!- 
quence  poured  upon  the  younger  woman,  while  wf 
were  almost  ignoring  the  presence  of  the  elder,  until 
she  was  made  fascinating  as  the  owner  of  an  un[)ul'- 
lished  history  of  California. 

Yes,  there  was  a  trunkful  of  papers  left  by  tin' 
late  lamented  which  had  never  been  disturbed,  so 
sighed  the  Senora  ]3andini.  People  said  among  tliei:i 
was  a  partially  written  history;  but  further  than  this 
she  knew  nothing  of  the  contents  of  the  trunk.  The 
k-^<-er  of  Colonel  Coutts  to  Mrs  Stearns,  the  leader 
must  I'now,  strongly  urged  the  placing  of  these  doc- 


THE  BANTIXI  DOCtTMENTS. 


4S0 


iimonts  in  my  hands,  as  the  most  proper  place  for 
them. 

]Mrs  Bandini  asked  if  I  needed  them  soon.  Yes;  I 
always  needed  such  things  immediately.  She  could 
not  possibly  touch  the  trunk  until  the  return  of  her 
son-in-law,  Charles  R.  Johnson,  who  was  tlion  at 
San  Diego.  He  would  not  return  for  a  fortnight, 
and  I  could  not  wait.  The  old  lady  would  not  move 
M  itliout  him,  and  there  I  was  obliged  to  leave  it. 

It  was  necessary  I  should  have  that  material. 
Bandini  was  a  prominent  and  nuportant  citizen  of 
southern  California,  one  of  the  few  who  united  ability 
and  patriotism  sufficient  to  write  history.  I  saw  by 
this  time  that  I  should  have  more  material  on  north- 
ern than  on  southern  California;  that  is  to  say,  my 
northern  authorities  M'ould  preponderate.  I  should 
liavo  at  my  command,  as  things  were  then  going, 
more  narratives  and  individual  histories  written  from 
a  northern  than  from  a  southern  standpoint.  And 
this  was  worthy  of  serious  consideration.  For  a  long 
time  the  north  and  the  south  were  in  a  state  of  semi- 
antagonisni,  and  their  respective  statements  would 
read  very  differently.  It  was  only  by  having  several 
accounts,  written  by  persons  belonging  to  either  side, 
that  anything  like  the  truth  could  bo  ascertained. 

Obviously  it  would  be  very  much  as  the  son-in-law 
sliould  say.  I  was  not  acquainted  with  Johnson  per- 
sonally, but  by  inquiry  I  ascertained  the  names  of 
those  who  had  influence  with  him,  and  these  next  day 
I  did  not  fail  to  see.  There  was  then  in  Los  Angeles 
Allied  liobinson,  a  resident  of  San  Francisco,  and  an 
author.  He  was  intimate  at  the  Stcarns-Bandini 
mansion,  and  might  assist  me.  I  spoke  with  him 
upon  the  subject.  I  likewise  saw  Judge  Sepulv^eda, 
(Jovornor  Downey,  IMajor  Truman,  and  others,  who 
coi'dially  promised  their  inllucnce  in  my  behalf  Thus 
I'oi'  the  present  I  was  obliged  to  leave  it.  On  my  re- 
luin  to  San  Francisco  I  continued  my  efforts.  I  was 
iletermined  never  to  let  the  matter  die.     I  appealed 


400 


HISTORIC  RESEARCHES  IN  THE  SOUTH. 


a<4niii  to  Colonel  Coutts,  and  to  several  Californians 
of  influence  in  various  parts  of  the  state.  The  result 
■was  that  about  six  months  after  my  first  attempt  I 
succeeded  in  j)lacing  the  valuable  documents  of  Gen- 
eral ]]andini,  together  with  his  manuscript  history  of 
Calllornia,  upon  the  shelves  of  my  library,  there  to 
remain.  At  the  suggestion  of  Mr  llobinson,  who 
brought  the  papers  up  from  Los  Angeles,  I  sent  Mrs 
Bandiui  a  check;  but  to  her  credit  be  it  said  she  re- 
turned  it  to  me,  saying  that  she  did  not  want  money 
for  the  material. 

Andres  Pico  was  our  next  essay;  this  was  another 
of  tlie  an'jfcls,  but  of  a  diiferent  sort.  There  were 
several  of  these  brotliers  .Pico,  all,  for  native  Cali- 
forjiians,  rcimarkably  knowing.  Whether  they  cauglit 
their  shrewtlness  from  the  Yankees  I  know  not; 
but  during  this  visit  experience  told  me  certain 
things  of  Don  Andres  which  I  was  scarcely  prepared 
to  learn,  things  which  laid  open  in  him  the  bad  qual- 
ities of  all  nationalities,  but  displayed  the  got)d  ones 
of  none. 

Shakespeare's  conception  of  human  nature  was 
probably  correct,  probably  the  purest  inspiration  of 
any  on  record.  With  him  there  was  no  such  thing  as 
absolute  and  complete  wickedness  in  man.  As  Cole- 
ridge says  of  him,  "All  his  villains  were  bad  u])ou 
good  principles;  even  Caliban  had  something  good  in 
him." 

What  Shakespeare  would  have  done  with  Don 
Andres  I  greatly  wonder.  We  of  this  latter-day 
cidio-htenment  cannot  aiford  to  be  less  charitable  tliau 
Shakespeare;  therefore  we  must  conclude  that  Don 
Andres  was  bad  upon  good  principles.  But  whetlior 
upon  good  or  bad  principles,  or  whether  it  was  a  daily 
custom  with  him,  we  know  that  on  this  occasion  lu' 
practised  on  us  peculiarly. 

That  it  was  neatly  done  I  cannot  deny:  for  an 
ancient  Californian  ver}^  neatly;  probably  better  than 
one  Yankee  in  ten  thousand  could  have  accomplished 


CUXXIXG  DON  AXDRfiS  1 


401 


it.  bettor  than  hollow-heai'ted  F  cnch  politeness,  Ger- 
man stolidity,  or  Chinese  Ic^erdomain  could  have 
achieved  it.  And  this  was  the  manner  of  it:  His 
liwiiiowas  the  mission  of  San  Fernando,  some  twenty 
miles  north-west  of  Los  Anj^oles;  but  luckily,  as  we 
tliouiufht,  we  found  him  in  Los  Angeles.  Seeking  him 
out,  1  presented  Colonel  Coutts'  letter.  He  retjeived 
it  with  most  com[)lacent  reverence;  and  as  he  read  it 
I  noted  his  appearance.  His  age  I  should  say  was 
sixty-five,  or  perhaps  more;  he  was  well  built,  though 
sliglitly  bent,  and  over  the  loose  russet  skin  of  his 
t-iee  the  frost  of  age  was  whitening  the  coarse  black 
hiiir.  His  head  was  large  and  shaped  for  intellectual 
strength;  his  eyes  were  as  sly  and  crafty  in  a})pea)'- 
aiice  as  those  of  a  Turkish  porter,  and  about  his  mouth 
[)layed  a  smile  no  less  insidious. 

The  letter  read,  it  was  devoutly  folded  and  buttoned 
in  the  pocket  nearest  the  spot  where  should  have  been 
the  heart.  All  that  was  L)on  Andres' — his  prt)j)erty, 
his  lil'e,  his  soul — was  his  friend's  and  his  friend's 
I'l'icnds'.  All  Los  Angeles  was  ours  to  connnand. 
Would  we  to  San  Fernando?  he  would  accompany 
us  on  the  instant;  and  once  there  the  secrets  of  the 
ceatury  should  be  spread  out  before  us! 

Well,  thought  I,  this  surely  is  ca^^y  sailing.  Hayes 
au',1  ]Jandini  were  tempestuous  seas  beside  this  placid 
I'ico  ocean.  When  I  hinted  that  such  generosity  was 
1)1  yond  the  limit  of  ordinary  patriotism,  and  that  the 
modest  merits  of  our  cause  hardly  reconciled  me  to 
tin;  taxing  of  his  time  and  patience  so  heavily,  he 
piouilly  straightened  his  large  and  well  developed 
I'liin,  and  striking  his  breast  upon  the  letter  there  de- 
jiositcd  exclaimed,  "Talk  not  to  me  of  trouble;  this 
makes  service  sacred  I" 

^Vgain  thought  I,  how  nol>lel  One  must  come 
south  to  see  the  Latin  r.tce  of  California  in  its  true 
light.  But  for  the  high  and  universal  import  of 
my  cause  I  should  have  hesitated  before  ac(iepting 
so  serious  obligation  from  a  strans^er:  and  I  almost 


402 


nisTomc  RESEAKCiiEs  IX  THE  souxn. 


loolced  for  a  tear  to  drop  from  tlio  a[)pan'ntly  moist- 
ening eye  upon  the  griz/lud  <,'lieek,  so  full  of  leoliiiL,' 
M'as  this  luiiu.  It  was  arranged  that  J3on  An(h'('s 
should  call  for  us  at  an  early  day  and  assist  us  in 
searehing  the  citv  for  historic  material,  and  that  on 
t!io  morning  of  our  departure  he  would  accompany  us 
to  San  J^'ernando.  Ai'ter  introducing  me,  at  my  ii  - 
(pu'st,  to  Seiior  Agustin  Olvera,  a  learned  ancient 
whom  I  desired  to  see,  Don  Anilres  dej^arted,  heariii';- 
with  him  the  deepest  thanks  of  a  heart  ovtirflowiu;^' 
with  gratitude,  and  expressed  in  terms  bordering  on 
Spanish  extravagance. 

At  this  time  I  will  admit  I  was  too  imiooent  and 
unso])histicated  to  cope  with  the  sweet  suhtleties  of 
S[»anish  politeness.  l)ealing  only  in  Lard  facts,  with 
only  honest  intent,  I  was  not  at  all  sus[)icious  of  \iv\- 
sons  or  protestations,  and  hence  fell  an  easy  victim. 
}[ad  I  met  ]^on  Andres  after  my  two  visits  to  ^[exicn, 
instead  of  bet'ore,  he  would  not  have  misled  me.  As 
it  was,  we  had  to  thank  him  for  anight  of  happy  hojKs. 
ev(.Mi  if  they  were  all  destined  to  be  dissipated  in  tlir 
morning.  I  never  saw  Don  Andres  again.  Thougli  I 
sought  him  diligently  the  day  l)efore  our  deparlii!>' 
from  Ivos  Angeles,  and  learned  at  his  lodgings  that  Xv 
liad  not  left  the  city,  and  though  I  deposited  there  a 
letter  saying  that  I  should  hope  to  see  him  on  the  stage, 
or  at  San  Fernando  the  following  day,  he  wms  nowlu  re 
to  be  found.  Cunning  Don  Antlres  1  It  war  the  best 
bit  of  California  comedy  wc  encountered  on  our 
travels. 

Pio  Pico,  Ci-devant  governor  of  California  and  a 
resident  of  Los  Angeles,  was  not  in  the  citv  at  the 
time.  Subsequently  I  obtained  from  him  a  history 
of  such  affairs  as  came  witliin  his  knowledge,  of  which 
I  shall  speak  again  hereafter.  Olvera  pi'ofessed  to 
have  some  documents;  professed  to  be  writing  ii- 
history  of  Calilbrnia;  had  long  and  earnestly  sought 
to  obtain  possession  of  Bandini's  papers,  and  lauglu  d 
at  our  efforts  in  a  direction  where  he  had  so  oilcii 


LOS  ANOELKS  ARCTIIVES. 


493 


fallcfl.  Duriiij^  tho  short  convc'i'sation  we  liad  with 
.\iidres  Pico,  ho  inlbnnud  us,  as  Father  Ul)aeh  luul 
s;ii(l,  that  he  was  the  coininissioner  iippointed  in  <;arly 
(lavs  to  take  eharjjfe  of  the  mission  records,  and  eon- 
f>c'(juently  at  one  time  had  many  of  them  in  liis 
j)!)ssessiou,  inchuhn^  those  of  San  Luis  Key;  hut 
most  of  them  had  been  scattered  and  stoh-n.  and  now 
lie  liad  only  those  at  San  Fernandtt,  whicii  were  a 
siiKill  portion  of  those  once  in  his  |)ossession. 

The  archives  in  the  county  clerk's  office  we  found, 
as  rc'[)orted  by  Judge  Hayes,  bound  in  twelve  large 
Milumes,  without  system  or  index;  nevertheless  tlu>re 
was  nuich  in  theui  of  historic  value,  and  the  only 
tiling  to  be  done  was  to  have  an  abstract  made  of 
llicm  for  the  library.  One  Stephen  C  Foster  was 
rcconniiendcd  to  mo  by  several  gentlemen  as  the 
person  most  competent  in  Los  Angeles  to  make  the 
required  copies.  ]Ie  was  one  of  the  earliest  settlers 
in  tli(^se  parts,  and  besides  being  well  versed  in 
Sisanish,  and  familiar  with  these  documents,  he  could 
.supplement  many  unexplained  matters  from  his  own 
cxpei'ience. 

I  found  Foster  after  some  search,  for  he  was  not  a 
man  of  very  regular  habits,  and  had  no  difficulty  in 
liigaging  him  to  do  this  work.  I  agreed  to  pay  him 
a  liberal  price,  twenty  cents  a  folio  I  think  it  was, 
ami  lie  promised  to  begin  the  work  immediately,  and 
send  it  to  San  Francisco  and  draw  his  pay  as  it  pro- 
ure^sed;  but  he  failed  wholly  to  ])erf;)rm  the  work, 
and  after  spurring  him  uyt  i'or  more  than  a  year,  re- 
reiving  a  fresh  promise  with  every  effort,  1  iinally 
aliaiidoned  all  hope  of  inducing  him  even  to  attempt 
the  task. 

In  Los  Angeles  at  this  time  were  many  old  friends 
and  newly-made  genial  acquaintances,  who  rendered 
me  every  attention.  Tuesday,  the  3d  of  ^larch,  ae- 
euiiipanied  by  a  pleasant  party,  I  was  driven  oui:  to 
San  (labriel  mission,  some  seven  miles  east  of  Los 


I 


! 
I 


o 


les.    Awaking  the  resident  priests,  Philip  Farrcl 


404 


niSTORIC  Rr:SE.VRCIIES  IX  THE  SOUTH. 


and  .Tofiquiii  T>(it  by  name,  \vv  obtaiiujd  a  sij^lit  of  the 
mission  hooks.  ()riL,^inalIy  I)oui»<l  in  llcxlldu  oow- 
l(;atlier,  oiio  covor  with  a  flap  liko  a  pockcit-hook  and 
tlio  otlior  without,  they  were  now  in  a  torn  c()n(Htioii. 
I  copied  the  titlc-pajjfo  of  th(!  Lihro  tie  Ci»iJlnnacion<''i, 
in  two  vohunos,  1771-1874,  wldch  was  .siL,aied,  iis 
most  of  tlio  mission  Ixioks  were,  Fr  Jimipero  Sena, 
l*resid".  In  this  hook  wc^re  several  notes,  emlxxlyiii;;' 
the  church  regulations  of  tlie  sacrament  of  couiiruiii- 
tion,  the  notes  being  usually  in  Spanish,  with  church 
rules  in  Latin.  The  otlu'r  hooks  preserved  at  Saii 
Gabriel  mission  were  Mfifriinonios,  two  volume.-;, 
1774-I8r)r),  and  1858-74,  the  iirst  entry  being  April 
19,  1774,  and  signed  by  Jum'pcsro  Serra.  Tliei-i'  \< 
but  one  entry  in  this  hook  signed  by  the  president. 
The  J'^iiticrrofi  and  Bdiitlsmos  wei-e  also  there,  iln' 
latter  in  five  vohnncs,  tlie  first  entry  bt-ing  the  I7lh 
of  ]\Iarch  179G,  an<l  sisj^ned  Mi<jfnel  Sanehes. 

A  ]Mr  Twitf.'hell,  an  old  resident,  told  me  f-:oine 
things  and  promised  to  write  more,  but  I'ailed,  likj 
most  others,  to  keep  his  word.  We  were  introduced  to 
a  Californian  woman  whose  aijc  was  iriviiii  us  as  one 
hundred  and  thirty-eight  years,  though  I  stronglv 
suspect  that  at  each  of  lier  latest  birthdays  five  or  six 
years  were  added  to  her  aije,  for  several  informed  nic 
that  five  years  ago  she  was  not  as  old  as  now  by  thnJy 
years;  and  I'urthermore, a  granddaughter  of  sixty  wli') 
was  with  her  said  that  her  grandmother  was  boiii  t!u' 
year  the  padres  first  came  to  California,  which  was  i:i 
17G1),  so  that  she  could  liave  been  but  one  hunchcl 
and  five  years  of  ago.  But  slio  was  old  enough;  as  old, 
and  as  leathery,  discolorod.  and  useless  as  the  missi.m 
books  themselves,  and  vi  her  withered  brain  was 
scarcely  more  intelligence. 

Returning  to  town  by  Avay  of  the  celebrated  Tloso 
and  Johnson  places,  we  spent  the  remainder  of  the  day 
in  visits.  An  important  man  was  J.  J.  "Warner,  wlio 
agreed  to  write.  To  make  the  promise  more  real,  I 
purchased  a  blank-book,  and  writing  on  the  first  pa.;o 


LOS  i-'  WELES  FUIKXDS. 


4n.'i 


nnnwhrmrrft  of  J.  J.  Wnrrirr,  1  took  it  witli  a  \u)\ 
lit'  cinurs  to  liis  ofHoc,  and  rcccivocl  his  solcimi 
jissiij-aiic'cs.  My  closo  attention  to  tlic  inatttT,  1 
manaijfod  to  }^ot  tho  hc'^]<.  lialf  filled  Avitli  ori,L,niial 
material  M'itliin  tiiree  years,  wlii'li.  ooiisi'k.iiiij^-  tiiu 
iilinost  universal  i'ailure  of  my  efl'orts  of  that  eliar- 
acter,  I  rej^arded  as  soniethiii'Lj  wonderful.  .Tiid;^e 
St'pulvechi  and  11.  M.  Widney  promised  to  write,  and 
1  am  glad  to  say  both  these  j^entlemen  were  as 
Ljdod  as  their  word;  and  further  than  this,  to  both  of 
ihi'ui  I  am  under  many  other  oblii^alions  for  kind 
assistance  in  procurinj^  historical  material  in  tho 
vicinity  of  Los  Anf^oles.  Colonel  Howard,  not  the 
illustrious  Volnoy  E.  of  Vigilance  Committee  fame, 
manifested  the  kindest  interest  in  our  ctForts,  thought 
ill'  mi'dit  brinix  some  iniluence  to  bear  on  j\Irs  Ilan- 
(liui,  and  intro(lu"'.d  us  at  the  bishops'  residence, 
hut  unfortunately  the  bishops,  Amat  and  IMora, 
were  both  absent.  I  do  not  know  that  they  would 
have  been  of  any  assistance  to  us;  on  the  contrary, 
they  might  have  prevented  my  getting  the  Bandini 
])aj)ers.  Assuredly  tho  church  was  not  disposed  to 
^••ither  mission  or  other  documents  for  my  library; 
\\liatever  uiay  have  been  its  course  formerly,  or  at 
various  stages  of  its  history,  of  that  kind  of  substance 
to-day  it  keeps  all  and  gets  all  it  can. 

Tln!  mission  books  of  San  Fernando  prosciTod  in 
the  ])()Ssession  of  the  Pico  family  wore  found  to  be 
as  follows:  Matrimonios,  one  volume,  1797-1847,  first 
entry  October  8,  1797,  signed  Francisco  Dumet; 
Jjifufismos,  one  volume,  1798-1852,  first  entry  April 
-S,  1798,  signed  Francisco  Dumet;  Libra  de  Pafcjitc.^t 
y  (hi  Ynventario  pcrtcnecienfe  a  la  M'mon  de  S>* 
Fci'iiando  licij  en  la  Nucva  California  ana  de  1800. 
In  my  hasty  examination  of  this  book  it  seemed  to 
1110  to  contain  information  of  suflRcient  value  to  war- 
rant my  sondip.g  thither  Mr  Foster  to  copy  it.  In 
lilc(^  manner  another  importar»t  woric,  said  by  Don 
liumulo  to  be  among  his  father's  papers,  but  which 


;«s 


406 


iii5;Torac  researches  ix  the  south. 


he  could  not  at  the  moment  lay  his  hands  on,  should 
be  looked  after.  Its  title  hu  thought  to  be  sonietiiiii!^' 
as  iollows:  La  FinnJacioii  dc  la  Minion  dc  San  Fvr- 
nando  /A'//,  j)or  cl  Padre  Francisco  Diunet.  It  was 
said  to  contain  a  full  description  of  the  state  of  the 
couiiti'V  at  the  time  wlien  the  mission  was  ilrst  es- 
tablislii'd.  Foster  failing,  notliing  was  acc()mj)]i>he(l 
toward  tiansferring  this  information  to  the  hl)rarv 
until  \\\r  \  isit  of  ]\lr  Savage  to  Los  Angeles,  neaily 
lour  years  later.  We  were  likewise  shown  a  collec- 
tion of  Spanisli  jirinted  books  left  by  the  missionaries. 
They  were  mostly  theological  works  })rinted  in  Sj)aiii, 
none  of  them  i-efei'ring  at  all  to  the  Pacilic  States, 
and  none  of  them  of  the  slightest  value  to  any  })ersou 
for  any  pur])osc. 

At  San  Ihienavcntura  we  encountered  Bislioj) 
Amat  and  Father  C()ma])ala,  the  latter  a  good 
fellow  enough,  but  with  head  lighter  than  heels. 
Just  now  lie  was  in  an  exceeding  flutter,  ovei'awcd 
by  gathered  greatness,  so  much  so  as  pal[)al)l3-  to  con- 
fuse his  loggy  brain.  lie  would  do  anything,  but  the 
mission  books  contained  nothing,  absolutidy  nothing; 
he  and  his  Avere  at  my  disposal,  but  all  was  nothing. 
When  pressed  by  us  for  a  sight  of  this  nothing,  theie 
was  the  same  nervous  res[)onse,  until  Oak  wrote  Iiini 
down  a  knave  or  a  fool.  Nevertheless  we  tortured 
him  until  the  books  wore  produced,  fat  and  Jolly  black- 
eyed  ]>ishop  Amat  meanwhile  smiling  appro\ingly. 

Conia[)ala  })romiscd  to  write  his  ex[)ei'iences  for  \\\^\ 
having  come  to  the  country  in  18a0,  but  he  did  not. 
He  said  we  sliould  by  all  means  see  Ramon  \'al(k's, 
an  ancient  of  San  33uenaventura.  Likewise  he  gave 
me  a  letter  to  Jose  do  Arnaz,  another  old  resident, 
and  straisihtway  we  hasttjned  to  iind  these  walking 
historii's  and  to  wring  them  out  upon  our  ])ages.  Diit 
before  leaving,  Bishoj)  Amat  had  assured  us  that  his 
library,  which  we  had  not  been  able  to  see  at  !.<>s 
Angeles  on  account  of  his  absence,  containi'd  nothing;' 
relating  to  our  subject  save  Palou's  life  of  Juni[>ero 


AT  SiVXTA  BARBARA. 


497 


Serra.  He  had  made  some  r(>scarches  himself  ainon;^ 
the  missions  for  historical  matter,  but  without  suc- 
cess. Ho  expressed  the  opinion  that  most  of  the 
mission  archives  were  sent  to  the  college  of  San  Fer- 
iiiiiulo  in  Mexico,  but  says  he  has  seen  documents  on 
tlic  subject  in  the  royal  archives  of  SevHlo,  in  S'pain. 
The  biishop  also  kindly  gave  me  a  letter  to  the  padre 
at  San  Antonio,  the  oldest  of  the  Californian  padres. 
The  missions  Dirtlier  north,  according  to  Bishop  Amat, 
v.ore  in  a  miserable  state,  the  building  at  Santa  Incs 
luiving  been  userl  for  the  storage  of  hay,  which  hal 
hctu  several  times  fired  by  malicious  persons.  At 
San  Cih'los  mission  the  padre  who  had  attempted  to 
reside  there  was  driven  away  several  years  previous 
hy  threats  of  shooting. 

After  taking  excellent  dictations  from  Valdes  and 
Arnaz,  we  drove  five  miles  up  a  canon  whicli  makes 
through  the  hills  at  tliis  point,  and  along  which  were 
the  kinds  most  cultivated  by  the  padres,  on  account  of 
the  superior  advantages  of  this  locality  for  irrigation. 
]\[ountin'jf  the  stauje  at  four  o'clock  r.  Jt.  the  day 
after  our  arrival,  we  leached  Santa  Barbara  at  hall- 
iiast  eiufht.  The  hotels  were  crowded,  but  the  stage 
agent,  unknown  to  me,  had  kindly  engaged  rooms  for 
us,  so  that  we  were  soon  made  quite  comfortable. 
Tlie  next  day  being  Sunday,  we  attended  chureli, 
rested,  and  wTote  up  our  journals.  Early  next  morn- 
ing we  directed  our  course  first  to  La  l^artera,  the 
rosidencG  of  Doctor  Alexander  S.  Taylor,  a  literary 
and  historical  dabster  of  no  small  renown  in  these 
parts.  For  twenty  years  and  more  he  had  been  talk- 
iiiLf  and  writinix.  He  knew  much;  but  credit  was 
ii,ivin  him  for  knowing  much  more  than  he  did  know. 
His  was  a  character  hicn  prononce.  In  several  de- 
partments of  letters  ho  was  a  pioneer. 

Turning  in^  •  narrow  lane  six  miles  north-west  of 
th(!  town,  we  approached  a  small  tenement  something 
between  a  hut  and  a  cottage.  It  was  cheaply  briifc 
of  boards,  and  consisted  of  one  story  with  thi  cc  or 

tilT.   IND.      32 


i" 


'V. 


nJ 


H 


m 


m 


408 


HTSTORTC  RESEARCHES  IN  THE  SOUTH, 


four  rooms.  The  doctor  had  married  a  California n 
woman  for  her  money,  and  had  not  obtained  as  much 
as  lie  had  expected;  hence  half  a  dozen  dark-com- 
plexioned cliildren,  and  a  house  not  as  comfortable  as 
lie  could  have  enjoyed.  Nevertheless  he  found  in 
his  Avife  a  most  excellent,  hard-working,  and  virtuous 
woman;  and  her  face  was  such  as  rests  one  to  look 
at,  so  contentedly  serene  it  was. 

Enterinijf,  we  encountered  the  mistress  of  tlie  man- 
sion,  a  tall,  thin  lady,  apparently  as  liappy  amidst  \wy 
many  cares  as  if  her  husband  was  now  and  ever  liad 
been  lapped  in  luxury.  Inquiring  for  Doctor  Tavloi-, 
wc  were  shown  into  a  back  room,  containing  a  stand, 
some  boxes  whicli  served  instead  of  chairs,  and  a  \)vd 
on  wJiich  lay  stretched  a  man  of  about  lifty-five  yoai-s. 
lie  was  of  a  sandy  complexion,  the  hair  heavily 
touclied  with  gray,  and  his  face  and  form  were  thin 
but  not  emaciated. 

In  a  loud  lioart}'  voice,  with  no  foreign  pronunciation, 
but  witli  the  faintest  possible  Scotch  accent,  not  at 
all  unpleasant,  lie  bade  us  enter.  A  carbuncle  on  tlie 
arm  was  the  malady,  and  our  presence  was  a  diver- 
sion rather  tlian  an  intrusion  into  a  sick-room;  so  wo 
seated  ourselves  on  the  boxes  and  entered  freelv  imo 
conversation.  I  stated  brielly  the  [)urport  of  my 
visit  to  tliose  parts,  and  expressed  my  inability  to 
pass  him  by  without  calling,  and  my  regrets  at  finding 
him  ill. 

"Oh I  it  is  nothing,"  he  answered,  cheerfully.  "I 
shall  be  up  in  a  few  days."  lie  was  indeed  up  again 
in  due  time;  but  within  two  or  three  years  then-artcr 
lie  was  laid  low  forever.  Then  I  was  glad  1  hail 
seen  him.  Alas'  how  rapidly  are  passing  away  those 
who  alone  can  tell  us  of  the  past.  Within  six  years 
after  this  journey  it  seemed  to  me  that  half  tlie  nioic 
important  men  1  then  mot  were  dead. 

Amonij  the  earlier  literary  labors  of  Doctoi  Taylor 
was  a  bibliography  of  tlie  Pacific  coast,  consistuig  oi 
some  twelve  hundred  titles  published  in  the  Sacia- 


ALEXANDER  S.  TAYLOR. 


499 


mcnto  Union.  Subsequently  this  list  was  cut  up  and 
|);ustcJ  in  a  scrap-book,  with  changes,  additions,  and 
inteilincations.  As  a  bibliography  it  was  altogether 
useless,  from  the  fact  that  th.e  author  was  ol)liged  to 
v/iitc  his  titles  from  catalogues,  and  newspaper  and 
.illier  mention,  thus  making  of  it  a  rambling  talk 
alntut  books  with  a  conglomeration  (jf  names  and  par- 
tial titles.  Then  there  were  vagrant  discussions  about 
tlie  Indians  and  the  missions  of  California,  together 
^vith  snatches  of  history,  biogi-aphy,  and  general 
gossip,  with  innumerable  repetitions  and  inaccuracies 
ruuning  through  thirty  or  forty  numbers  of  the 
funner  newspaper,  under  the  title  of  Indianology. 

'^•)'  doctor  had  a  horrible  fashion  of  affixing  to  an 
Vv.)^:.  .  word  a  Spanish  or  Latin  ending,  or  giving  a 
S;ianisli  termination  to  a  Latin  stem,  lie  delighted 
ill  ohxjics,  otp'iifas,  and  the  like  abortions,  thinking  by 
tlirowing  them  in  I'reely  to  give  his  work  the  air  of 
Irai'iiing.  An  article  on  tlu?  natives  of  Caliibrnia, 
imblished  in  Baucy<fc'>iIlaii(l-Bouk  Almanac,  18G4,  ho 
liuads  Precis  India  CaCifornicus. 

These  were  his  chief  works,  and  these  I  had  in  the 
liliiary;  yet  so  nuich  greater  than  the  man  is  f)ften- 
tiuies  his  fame,  that  from  tlie  many  accounts  I  had  of 
J)<H'tor  Taylor  and  his  works,  I  had  been  led  to  pic- 
ture; h'.a  in  m  r  mind  as  sitting  in  the  nuMst  of  literary 
alliuence.  J  iwA  been  tauirht  to  I'CLjard  him,  thouiih 
the  hc'ppy  posi^cssor  of  nuuiy  valuable  books  and 
manusci'i[  ts,  ;•.••  lu  irascible  old  man  whom  misfor- 
tune and  ^Ust  '^c  had  soured,  and  who  valued  his 
tieasures  exorbi./x  iiiy,  and  guarded  tliem  with  })otu- 
lant  watchfulness;  so  that  if  I  should  find  him  ])os- 
sessed  of  valuable  material  I  could  not  hope  to  be  able 
to  purchase  it. 

1  had  also  boon  told  that  he  had  several  volume's 
read}'  I'or  pid>lication,  but  was  unable  to  find  a  j)uh- 
hsher.  T  -e  conversation  turiiinu!:  almost  innn(>diatelv 
"II  liter-  r  'uatters,  I  asked  to  see  the  residt  of  his 
lahors.     Caiiiag  his  wife,  who  was   at  work  in  the 


^1 


! 


■'rtW 


HISTORIC  RESEARCHES  IX  THE  SOUTH. 


Mi: 


adjoininjj^  room,  ho  requested  her  to  bring  from  under 
his  bod  a  rounjli  iinpainted  box,  about  two  feet  square, 
havinGf  a  lid  like  a  chest,  and  lodged. 

"  There,"  said  the  invalid,  turning  over  in  bed  so 
that  his  e_yes  could  rest  upon  his  treasures,  "  in  that 
box  is  twcnty-iivo  years  of  my  life." 

Poor  man  I  The  box  and  all  its  contents  were  worth 
intrinsically  nothing,  and  would  not  bring  in  ojicii 
market  the  equivalent  of  a  month's  wages  of  a 
common  laborer.  Nevertheless  it  was  ti'uc  that  a 
quarter-century  of  eifort  was  there,  a  quartcr-centuiv 
of  tliought  and  enthusiasm,  of  love-labor,  of  hope  and 
confident  expect,  (  'he  results  of  a  noble  life.  Yes, 
a  noble  life;  for  a  ■.  I's  life  consists  in  what  he  at- 
tempts to  do  no  less  tiian  in  what  ho  does. 

The  wife  lifted  the  cover,  and  the  sick  man  I'o- 
quested  me  to  examine  the  contents.  First  I  bronglit 
out  a  pamphlet  on  the  voyages  to  California  of 
Cabrillo  and  Ferrelo,  of  which  there  were  sevci;:! 
copies  in  my  library.  Then  one  after  another  books 
of  scraps  were  produced:  first  The  Animated  Natiiir, 
of  California,  in  two  volumes;  next  The  Diseocnvr^, 
Founders,  ami  Pioneers  of  California,  l)cing  printed 
scraps  interspersed  with  manuscript  ])iogra])hical  no- 
tices of  about  one  page  to  each  person;  the  a  Bihlioij- 
rafa  Californica,  the  first  of  which  words  bel(Migs  to 
no  language,  1542-1872.  This  was  the  bibliography 
before  mentioned.  Then  there  was  the  Odds  and 
Ends  of  California  History,  consisting  of  scraps  and 
manusciipt  sketches. 

In  all  these  there  was  little  whicli  we  already  had 
not  in  some  shape;  hence  the  value  to  the  libiaiy 
would  bo  but  small.  The  last  named  book  probably 
would  have  been  worth  most  to  my  collection,  but  I  did 
not  regard  any  of  them  as  of  sufficient  importance  even 
to  ask  him  his  price.  The  contents  of  this  box  he 
subsequently  presented  to  the  society  of  California 
j)ioneers,  in  whose  hands  it  M'as  almost  as  acces- 
sible to  me  as  if  it  had  been  on  my  shelves.    Some 


MIXED  MATERIAL. 


501 


(imc  before  tliis  lie  had  sold  to  tlio  ujiivtisity  of 
(Vilifornia  his  collection  of  books  for  six  hundred 
dollars,  but  after  making  some  inquiries  about  my 
colluction  he  expressed  the  opinion  that  the  lot  so 
i^nld  contained  nothing  I  required. 

Of  the  scrap-books  contained  in  the  box,  that  is  to 
say,  of  his  own  works  Avhich  lie  desired  to  publish,  ho 
li.id  the  utmost  faith  as  to  their  great  value;  and  wlien 
fiskod  as  to  the  best  materials  to  be  consulted  in  the 
v» riling  of  a  history  of  California,  he  referred  to  his 
own  prepared  volumes  as  the  only  reliable  source  of 
iiil'urmation. 

Some  years  aijo  Doctoi  Tavlor  obtained  from  the 
ji;i(lro  at  San  Carlos  mission  a  collection  of  origmal 
iiiaiiuscripts,  composed  chiefly  of  coi-respontlence  of 
the  early  padres  I'rom  1780  to  184(5.  Tliis  collection, 
lioiind  in  seven  volumes,  was  given  to  ^Vrchbishop 
Alpn>:iii\'    and  of   it  I  have  had    (X'casion   to   si)i'ak 


icmanv 


1i>t()re.  The  volumes  wi'rti  [»laced  in  St  ]M.ary's 
li'rary  at  the  cathedral.  Of  these  letters  Doctor 
Tay]>)r  made  two  synojises,  one  of  wliicli  Nvent 
with  the  documents  to  the  arclibisliop  and  the  other 
vas  sold  with  his  books  to  the  universitv  of  Cali- 
lor  ma. 

A\'hi]c  engaged  in  the  interestinij  survev  of  this 
literary  life's  work  the  invalid  kept  up  a  ]'a])id  con- 
ver:;;tion.  He  told  his  tale  of  misfortunes:  how  at 
iii'.-.t  lie  Vv'as  successful;  how  he  made  money,  and  then 
irarortunately  lost  it,  and  made  and  lost  again — the 
old,  old  story  in  California.  Then  he  married,  and 
liad  ti'oul)l'->  with  his  wife's  family;  a-nd  now  he  I'ound 
l.iiiiself  stretched  helpless  upon  a  siek-bed,  with  a 
liiDod  of  young  children  to  grow  uj)  as  best  tliey 
iiiLilit.  His  woes,  however,  never  took  him  far  from 
his  beloved  topic,  books. 

"  1  will  tell  you  a  work  you  should  have,"  ho  cx- 
elalmed;  "it  is  the  voyage  of  the  Sutil  and  Mexivana, 


L'oin 


imng 


1 


i'M- 


"  Yes,  We  have  that,"  said  Oak. 


502 


ITISTORIC  RESEARCHES  IN  THE  SOUTn. 


"O  you  liavo!"  he  replied,  suddenly.  Then  after 
a  time  he  l^rokc  out  at]jaiii,  "There  is  Cabrillo's 
voyage,  in  Buekingham  Smith's  collection;  now,  if 
yon  coukl  come  across  that " 

"  Wu  secured  a  copy  some  time  since,"  replied  Oak. 

"Well,  I  declare!"  exclaimed  the  doctor;  "if  you 
have  that,  you  have  the  only  copy  in  this  country,  [ 
take  it." 

And  so  on,  until  the  conversation  hecame  painful  to 
me.  Every  book  he  mentioned,  as  it  ha})pened,  was 
in  the  library.  That  these  sacred  treasures  wore  iu 
tlieir  real  presence  in  my  library,  ajiptuired  as  strange 
as  if  I  had  claimed  to  have  iu  my  possession  Aaron's 
rod,  St  Dominick's  rosary,  or  Hector's  shield.  Hi; 
did  not  appear  jeolous,  but  rather  astound(.'<l.  Every 
response  of  Oak  brouglit  a  groan  of  wonderment; 
every  response  was  like  plunging  a  dagger  into  bc- 
munl/ed  ll(>sh.  The  pain,  though  not  acute,  was 
palpabl(>,  and  partook  more  of  the  nature  of  rogict 
than  envy.  I  had  not  the  heart  to  tell  him  that  1  liad 
a  work  in  preparation  on  the  aborigines,  lilling,  al'iv  r 
the  utmost  condensation,  live  octavo  volumes,  and  i(  - 
i'erring  to  hundreds  of  authorities  which  he  had  mvcr 
beard  of,  notwithstanding  the  ponderous  presence'  of 
the  JJIhliof/raJa  Odifornica. 

Notwithstanding  lie  had  been  so  long  living  among 
the  missions  and  the  mission  people  of  California,  liis 
mind  meanwhile  dwa^lling  almost  constantly  on  thf 
matter  of  historical  data,  I  was  assured  by  this  sag(^ 
that  absolutely  nothing  could  be  found  in  the  Santa 
Bilrbara  mission,  or  in  an}'  of  the  other  missions,  ami 
that  to  obtain  any  historical  matter  whatever  IVom 
the  Spanish  side  would  be  impossible.  Of  a  truth  lln' 
souls  of  the  dead  nuist  be  ignorant  of  doings  of  tlic 
living,  else  this  Gjood  man's  t>host  cannot  be  far  from 
the  large  case  of  orinrinal  material  for  the  histor\-  "f 

•  •  •  •  '  1 1 

California  which  stands  in  the  library,  nearly  all 
of  which  is  i'rom  the  Spanish  side,  and  gathered  all».r 
his  so  positive  asscu'tion  that  none  existed. 


COUNTY  ARCHIVES. 


603 


Althougli  Doctor  Taylor's  literary  efforts  arc  not  to 
be  compared  with  those  oi'  Judge  J  [ayes  in  })oint  of 
])Oi'manent  benefit  to  society,  yet  they  are  by  no  means 
to  be  despised.  The  wonder  is,  isolated  as  he  was,  not 
that  the  somewhat  blind  and  illiterate  Uttenitcur  did 
not  accomplish  more,  but  that  he  accomplished  so 
much.  He  was  in  a  wilderness  alone,  to  him  a  dark 
wilderness,  and  ho  did  what  he  could.  The  effort  was 
a  no])le  one,  and  though  the  result  was  small,  there 
was  that  little  something  left  by  him,  the  first  atom 
])(>rhaps  in  the  building  of  the  mountain,  which  but 
for  such  effort  never  would  have  been  so  left,  and 
which  stamps  the  man  in  his  currents  of  thought  and 
aspirations  as  above  the  common  herd. 

Keturning  from  La  Partera  to  town  wc  c;dled  at 
the  city  hall  to  look  after  the  county  archives,  but 
neither  the  clerk  nor  recorder  knew  of  the  existenc' 
ef  anything  of  the  kind  save  tlie  co[)ics  ol"  a  i"e\\ 
pueblo  land-titles.  Frc^m  Mr  Hughes,  howc!ver,  au 
ationiey  long  friendly  to  our  business,  I  learned  that 
some  vears  aijo  the  archives  were  taken  to  San  Fran- 
cisco,  Avhere  those  of  a  general  nature  were  i-etained 
by  the  United  States  surveyor- general,  and  the  rest 
rctui'iied  and  placed  in  a  tea-chest  for  safe-keeping. 
At  the  next  cliango  of  county  officers  the  chest  with 
its  contents  disap])earcd,  no  one  knew  whither. 

Our  next  interview  wa«  with  the  parish  priest  Padre 
Jaime  Vila,  probably  the  politest  man  in  California. 
All  tlie  padres  were  polite,  but  Father  Jaime  over- 
flowed with  politeness.  TJie  attitude  of  obeisance  was 
Ills  natural  position.  Side  by  side  with  his  worship  of 
(Jod  was  his  reverence  for  man,  which  of  a  truth  is 
not  a  bad  religion,  provided  men  can  be  found  wortliy 
of  ])riost.ly  adoration. 

At  all  events.  Father  Jaime  was  a  pleasant  gentle- 
man. He  seemed  more  free  Irom  that  mountain  of 
awful  fear  under  which  most  of  his  brother  priests 
labored  than  any  one  we  had  met.  As  he  showed  us 
the  mission  books  there  was  a  refreshing  absence  of 


:i  ;i 


:\^\ 


r  'I 


604 


HISTORIC  RESEARCHES  IN  THE  SOUTH. 


that  f^rcat  trcpitlation  common  in  former  cases,  wliicli 
maiiiibsted  itst.'lf  as  soon  as  the  books  wore  produced 
and  continued  until  they  were  hidden  ai^ain,  mean- 
while persistently  assuring  us  that  their  contents 
were  of  no  importance,  and  being  evidently  much 
averse  to  our  taking  notes  from  tliem.  Father  Jaime, 
like  a  sensible  man,  seemed  pleased  to  show  his  books, 
and  took  pains  to  explain  the  contents  of  each,  evi- 
dently fearing  in  the  operation  neither  the  thunder- 
bolts of  the  almi'j:htv  nor  the  machinations  of  Satan. 

We  found  here  four  volumes  o?  liautismos,  1782- 
1874,  the  fn^st  entry  being  signed  Pedro  Benito  Cam- 
bon.  So  far  as  could  be  ascertained  by  a  hasty  exam- 
ination the  second  volume  contained  the  baptisms  of 
aboriginals  only.  Father  Jaime  stated  that  separate 
lists  were  kept  up  to  a  cei'tain  date,  and  afterward  all 
wore  entered  in  one  book.  The  total  number  of  en- 
tries in  tlie  regular  book  was  3591,  and  in  tlie  Indian 
book  4771.  The  Eiitierros  was  in  three  volumes,  the 
title  of  volume  i.  being  by  Junipero  Sen-a.  The 
ijrst  entry,  ])ecember  22,  1782,  was  signed  Vicente 
de  Santa  JNIaria.  Besides  which  were  two  volumes 
of  Matrimonio.s;  two  volumes  of  Coiijirmacwncs;  one 
volume  of  lists,  or  invoices  of  articles  furnished  the 
mission  of  San  Buenaventura  from  1791  to  1810, 
with  prices;  two  volumes  of  alphabetical  lists  of  ])e!- 
^.ons  in  the  mission  of  Santa  Bdrbara,  with  dates  rX 
marriage,  conlirmation,  etc.,  with  some  miscellaneous 
tables,  including  lists  of  persons  transferred  to  ami 
I'rom  the  mission;  and  one  volume  entitled  Libra  cii 
que  se  apunta  la  liopa  que  se  dldvihuije  d  las  Indios 
de  esta  Mision  de  San  Buenarentum,  180G-1G. 

These  books  were  kept  at  Father  Jaime's  residence, 
which  was  attached  to  the  parish  church  in  town. 
'Thence  we  proceeded  to  the  mission,  about  one  milo 
north-east  of  the  town,  on  the  side  hill  overlooking 
the  Santa  Barbara  plain.  TJiis  mission,  unlike  any  wo 
had  hitherto  seen,  was  kept  in  })erl"ect  repair.  It  was 
occupied  as  a  Fi-anciscan  (College  and  monastery,  and 


FATHERS  GOXZALEZ  AXD  ROilO. 


505 


ihe  monks  iii  gray  robes  and  sliavcn  crowns  cveiy- 
■wlicru  seen  called  to  mind  tlio  south  of  Eurojio  in  the 
olden  time.  Of  the  college,  Father  O'Kecfe,  a  deter- 
mined, man-of-the-Avorld-loohing  Irish  priest,  was 
]iie.;ident.  One  of  the  few  remaining  of  the  early 
jiadres  was  Father  Gonzalez,  now  almost  in  his 
(!()ta'>e.  Some  time  since  he  rcsiijned  his  ])()sition  as 
guardian,  and  was  now  partially  i)ai'alyzed.  lie 
]u'\-ertheless  rcco<mized  ns  and  our  mission;  as  we 
N.cre  presented  to  him  he  insisted  upon  rising  and 
niu'ovcring  his  head,  and  directed  that  every  facility 
lie  alTorded  us.  Therefore  it  is  not  strange  that  I 
was  nuich  taken  with  Father  Gonzalez. 

But  in  the  present  guardian  of  the  Franciscan 
college,  Friar  Jose  Maria  Homo,  more  than,  in  any 
of  tlie  clero'v  connected  with  the  mission,  I  found  mv 
ileal  of  a  monk.  He  was  arrayed  in  a  Ioul!"  OTav 
g  >\vn,  tied  with  a  cord  round  the  waist,  and  beavls  and 
cross  peiukuit.  His  hair  was  neatly  cut,  and  the 
crown  of  the  head  shaven.  His  eve  was  keen  and 
l.liidly,  his  features  broadly  intelligent,  and  in  his  air 
and  l)earing  was  a  manlinei^s  rarely  found  associated 
v.illi  relisfious  learnin'jf.  Ho  was  one  who  could  at 
once  be  true  to  himself  and  to  his  faith,  neither 
ckiiioralizing  his  humanity  to  his  piety  nor  sacrilicing 
oac  j'ot  *)!'  piety  to  any  earthly  passion.  At  this  time 
I'allier  Eomo  had  not  been  lono;;  from  Rome.  Italian, 
French,  and  Spanish  he  spoke  Huently,  but  not  Fng- 
ll^li.  1  le  was  a  man  of  W(Mghty  and  learned  presence, 
yi<  modest  withal  ami  affable.  As  successor  to  Father 
(Jon/.alez  he  was  a  happy  choice. 

<  )ii  askiii'jf  to  see  (ho  books  and  such  archives  as 
llie  mission  contained,  Father  Homo  showed  us  first 
a  large  box  of  miscellaneous  contcMits  whicli  had  been 
U'.xei;  to  the  coheixo  by  Doctor  Tavlor  in  i)avnieiit  for 
tuition  for  Ids  son — one  hundred  and  filty  <!ol]ars  I  be- 
lli ve  the  box  rei^resented.  Like  evervthinix  connected 
with  this  lal^or-lovinu  enthusiast,  the  box  contained  a 
iiet  \ory  dethied  or  valuable  mass  of  newspapers  and 


!       I 


U 


J  ■ 


rKK} 


niSTORIC  RESEiVRCHES  IN  THE  SOUTH. 


booked  newspaper  scraps,  such  as  copies  of  the 
Taylorolofji/,  ])i-iuted  in  the  ubiquitous  Farmer  and 
Union,  paniplilets,  broken  files  of  newspapers,  all  well 
enough  in  their  way,  but  of  no  practical  value,  beiiiLj 
only  Kuatches  of  subjects,  throwing  but  an  ignorant 
light  on  any  of  them. 

Wo  found  the  archives  of  Santa  Barbara  mis- 
sion both  bulky  and  important.  They  consisted  of 
corres})()ndence  of  the  padres,  statistics  of  the  sev- 
eral missions,  reports,  accounts,  inventories,  and  tlio 
like,  including  some  documents  of  the  pueblo  and 
presidi(J,  as  well  as  of  the  mission.  All  these  wore  in 
the  form  of  folded  papers,  neatly  fdcd  in  packages, 
and  labelled  with  more  or  less  distinctness.  Tiny 
were  kept  in  a  cupboard  consisting  of  an  apertuiu 
about  tw(j  feet  square  sunk  into  a  partition  wall  lo 
the  dc'[)th  of  about  one  foot,  and  covered  with  plain 
folding  doors.  As  we  had  never  before  heard  of  this 
deposit,  as  Doctor  Taylor  even  had  not  mentioned  it, 
and  as  it  was  apparently  not  known  b}'^  any  one  hr- 
yond  the  mission  precincts,  we  regarded  it  a  rare 
discovery,  the  first  real  literary  bonanza  we  had  un- 
earthed din-imjj  our  excursion. 

The  archives  of  this  mission  scorned  to  have  es- 
ca[)ed  the  fate  of  all  the  rest.  The  mission  was  never 
wliolly  abandoned  at  any  time;  it  was  never  rilled  of 
its  books  and  papers,  either  by  priests  returning  to 
Mexico  or  by  the  United  States  government.  Fatlai' 
Gonzalez  assured  me  that  this  cupboard  had  uvvvv 
been  disturbed,  that  it  was  then  just  as  it  had  bnii 
left  by  the  early  fathers;  and  such  to  every  appeai'ance 
was  the  fact.  That  Doctor  Taylor  with  his  indel'at- 
igable  industry  should  have  allowed  to  escape  liini 
this  rich  treasure  can  only  be  accounted  for  upon  tlio 
supposition  that  its  existence  was  kept  secret. 

JJcsides  the  folded  papers  mentioned,  there  wire 
the  following  in  the  form  of  manuscript  books,  i)aiii- 
phlcts,  and  printed  government  regulations  ^\ith 
official  signatures:  Diarlo  de  la  caminata  que  liizo  d 


(hcioi 

lie  /yY'.s 
of  801 

A;  y.V, 

Jorniri' 
■^•"A«  (/( 
drrno 
"Iras 
Santa 

thuQ  v.- 
tile  CO 
<'opy,  b 
that  Ik 


MISSION  ARCHIVES. 


507 


padre  prcfccto  Paijcmfi  eyi  union  rlel  padre  Sanchez 
pnr  la  sierra  di'iide  San  Diego  hasta  San  Gabriel  JSJl. 
IJhro  que  eontiene  los  Apuntes  dc  sienihras,  cosee/ias,  y 
demas  asuntos  propion  de  una  Mision.  Cateeismo  Po- 
litico arreijlado  d  la,  constitucion  de  la  monarquia 
I'iritaaola — for  the  Califoriiian  aborigines.  Quadcrno 
dc  estados  e  Ynformcs  de  esta.s  niitiiones  de  la  Alta  Cal- 
ifiirnia  del  aho  de  1822.  Descripcion  de  la  Operaeiini 
(Jcmrea — apparently  an  extract  copied  from  some 
medical  work.  Libra  de  las  Siembras  y  Coseehas  de  la 
Mision  de  Santa  Barbara  que  comienza  desde  el  ailo  de 
jsns — mostly  blank.  A  book  of  sermons  written  and 
preached  by  the  padres  in  California,  with  an  index. 
J.ibro  de  Qucntas  que  csta  Mision  de  Santa  Barbara 
ticne  con  la  habilitaeion  de  este  2>residio  del  mismo 
homJtre  y  eon  otros  varios  particulares  jyara  este  aTio  de 
17!'>2.  A  proclamation  by  Governor  Alvarado.  Throe 
ciiminal  trials  of  persons  for  polygamy.  Grammaivs 
mid  vocabularies  of  the  aboriiji'ines  of  diflbrent  mis- 
si;)ns,  in  two  volumes,  extensive  and  important,  but 
very  diflicult  to  read.  Accounts  of  the  difterent  mis- 
sions, in  throe  volumes,  181 G  and  subsequently.  Ju- 
I'iinue  de  la  Mision  de  Santa  Barbara  sita,  etc.,  asi  de 
/■>  cspiritual  coma  de  la  temporal  y  eompreliende  desde 
cl .'/  de  DicieMbre  del  aho  de  17S0,  quefud  el  de  lafun- 
daeion,  hasta  el  dia  31  de  Diciembre  de  17S7.  Facta ra. 
lie  firs  tercios  de  rjeneros,  etc.,  Ordenes — of  the  bishops 
of  Sonora  and  California;  im])ortant.  T'estinionio  de 
hi  Beal  Junta  sobre  el  nuevo  reijlamento  e  instruceion 
j'crniada  por  Don  Josef  de  Eeheceste  para  la  penin- 
si'la  de  California,  y  Dept.  de  San  Bias,  1773.  Qua- 
dirno  en  (pie  se  lleva  la  cuenta  de  la  cera,  candcleros,  y 
I'iras  cosas  que  se  han  comp>rado  j)ara  la  Ljlesia  de 
Santa  Barbara  desde  el  ano  de  1850 — to  IS-^G. 

To  examine  these  documents  at  any  length  at  this 
time  was  itnpracticable.  I  asked  permission  to  take 
tli(.'  contents  of  the  cui)board  to  San  Francisco  to 
<i)py^but  Father  Homo  assured  me  it  was  impossible, 
that  he  could  not  assume  the  responsibility  of  letting 


COS 


mSTOrjC  PvESEARCIIE?  IX  THE  SOUTH. 


tliom  go  beyond  the  nii.ssion  ^vall.s.  I  oderod  bonds 
i'nv  tlie  satb  return  of  evcty  ] wiper.  "Your  money 
eould  not  restore  tlieni,"  said  Father  Ixonio,  "  lu  case 
tlioj  were  Ljst  by  Tire  or  water;  tlieii  I  slujuld  bo 
eensur-ed."  Permission  was  iVeely  j^iven  mo,  how- 
ever, to  copy  a.s  much  as  I  pleased  within  the  mis- 
sion buihhnn's,  where  every  i'acihty  would  be  given 
me;  of  whieli  kind  offer  I  sul)sequ('nlly  made  avail,  as 
will  be  mentioned  hereafter,  transferriug  the  contents 
of  the  cu[>board,  tliat  is  to  say,  all  the  valuable  partui' 
it,  to   my  library  by  means  of  copyists. 

At  five  o'clock  a.m.  the  10th  of  Alareh  we  left  Santa 
])aibara  by  stage  and  were  set  d(»wn  at  Uallanl's 
uhont  two  o'clock,  l^aily  next  morning  iu  a  i'anu 
wagon  we  drove  out  to  the  college  of  Guadalupe, 
some  five  miles  south-eastward,  an<l  thence  to  Santa 
]nes  mission.  The  books  of  l*urisima  mission  being 
at  Santa  Iiies,  we  concluded  not  to  visit  the  ibrnier, 
as  tliei'o  was  nothing  there  specially  to  be  seen. 

The  mission  library  at  Santa  Ines  was  the  lari-c 
Wc!  had  yet  seen,  but  was  composed  almost  exclusi\ 
of  theological  works  }»rintcd  in  Spain.  Besides  u.^ 
I'egular  Purisima  mission  bo(^ks  I  saw  at  Santa 
Ines  a  curious  old  book  from  ]*urisima,  ])artly  printed 
and  jnu'tly  in  manuscript.  It  was  an  olla  2^odri<I<i  of 
.••;cra])s,  notes,  accounts,  etc.,  with  a  treatise  on  music. 
^Marking  such  parts  of  it  as  I  desired,  I  engaged  the 
ju'iestto  make  and  send  me  a  copy. 

A  most  uncomlbrtable  night  ride  in  the  rain 
brought  us  to  San  Luis  Obispo.  There,  as  beibie, 
we  drew  plans  of  the  mission  buildings,  examined 
ihe  books,  took  several  dictations,  and  proceeded  on 
our  way.  As  we  approached  the  northern  end  of 
tlie  line  of  early  ecclesiastical  settlement,  the  missions 
lay  some  distance  away  from  the  stage  route,  and  .1 
concluded  to  leave  those  nearest  homo  for  another 
occasion.  Hence  from  San  Luis  Obispo  we  all  re- 
turned, reaching  San  Francisco  the  15th  of  March, 
well  pleased  with  our  excursion. 


JUDr.E  HAYES  AOAIN". 


500 


In  transmitting,^  to  nio  liis  nuitx.-rial,  Jiidt^o  TTavcfl 
socniod  anxious  tluit  it  should  jl;"o  forth,  liko  a  l)(jh)V('(l 
(laughtor  to  licr  nmrria'^c,  in  its  best  apparel.  And 
therein  ho  proved  hinisi'U'  a  liigh-ininded  and  disin- 
terested lover  of  history,  ready  to  give  himself,  his 
time,  and  best  remaining  thoughts  to  the  cause,  "I 
wish  to  finish  up  my  collection,"  he  writes  n\t«,  "so 
that  you  may  have  all  the  facts  in  my  possession 
that  may  in  any  way  be  useful  to  you." 

]''irst  h<^  completed  and  forwarded  to  me  the  largo 
qu;u'to  volume  of  ^llta  Gilifornia  Mission.s  M-Jiieh  f 
]iad  left  with  him.  In  a  letter  dated  the  14th  of 
October  1874  he  say.s:  "I  send  by  express  the  two 
volumes  o^  Indian  Tirdfff.  j\[r  Luttrell  did  !iot  come 
down  with  the  connnission  sent  by  the  secretary  of 
the  intei'ioi-.  I  have  therefore  no  such  use  for  this 
collection  now  as  I  supposed  I  miglit  have.  I  have 
l)ei  11  able  to  add  but  a  few  matters  to  it.  Wliatevcr 
furtlier  iufoi'uiation  I  nwiy  collect  nnist  '•<)  into  another 
volume.  J'^ mi fji'anl  Not e.'i  now  only  waits  for  photo- 
grnjihs  to  be  completed.  The  board  of  supervisors  of 
San  Bernardino  directed  a  photographer  to  furnish 
me  with  twelve  views  which  I  had  designated.  Day 
h^'foro  yesterday  our  photographer  took  for  mo  twenty 
views  around  the  Old  Town,  which  ho  will  get  ready 
immediately." 

Several  visits  were  made  by  Judge  Hayes  to  Los 
Angeles  during  the  following  year,  at  which  times  ho 
used  his  utmost  influence  to  obtain  from  Olvera  and 
others  historical  information,  but  v»'ithout  nuich  suc- 
cess. Finally,  about  the  beginning  of  187(5,  1  engagcnl 
Judge  Hayes  to  drop  his  professional  duties  Ibr  a 
time,  take  up  his  residence  at  Los  Angeles,  and  de- 
vote his  entire  thoufjhts  and  enerjjfies  to  securing'  for 
mo  the  historical  inlbrmation  which  was  so  rapidly 
fading  in  that  vicinity. 

Beincj  himself  executor  and  legal  adviser  for  several 
estates,  he  was  enabled  to  secure  some  material  from 
them.    In  regard  to  the  county  archives,  he  examined 


Mm 


510 


HISTORIC  RESEARCHES  IN  THE  SOUTH. 


.  f 


the  entire  collection  of  twelve  volumes  of  orisfinal 
documents  which  I  had  seen  at  Los  Ani^eles,  and 
made  abstracts,  as  he  had  done  with  the  San  Diego 
ai'cliives,  except  that,  these  being  more  voluminous, 
he  employed  two  copyists  to  write  out  in  full  such 
documents  as  he  designated.  Besides  an  abstract,  ho 
made  for  me  a  complete  index  of  those  papers,  whicli  I 
i'ound  ver}^  useful.  Thus  all  that  could  be  valuable  to 
history  was  taken  from  these  archives  and  transfcired 
to  my  library,  where  it  was  preserved  in  large  and 
strongly  bound  volumes.  It  was  a  long  and  expensive 
piece  of  work,  but  there  was  no  other  feasible  plan 
wliich  could  place  me  in  possession  of  the  material; 
and,  indeed,  I  considered  myself  fortunate  in  securinLj 
the  services  of  one  so  abh.',  experienced,  and  enthusias- 
tic as  Judge  Hayes.  But  for  him,  the  expense  might 
easily  haAc  been  doubled,  and  the  work  not  half  so 
well  performed. 

I  cannot  better  illustrate  the  nature  of  this  work 
than  by  ])lacing  before  the  reader  a  few  extracts  from 
Judge  Ha3x\s'  letters: 


"I  send  another  package  of  copies,"  he  writes  Mr  Oak  the  22il  of  Fcbrimry 
IST'i.  "The  liill  of  ^Ir  Murray  is  for  28,708  -wonls.  amounting  to  S'lT.-tO. 
Tliis  is  at  twenty  cents  a  folio.  Young  Mr  liancroft  spoke  to  ino  ;)s  to  reihicing 
the  eharge  for  copying  to  fifteen  cents  per  folio.  I  had  some  convoi'sation  witli 
!Mr  Muiray  on  this  subject,  and  liave  thought  a  good  deal  about  it.  Mr 
^Murray  is  an  expert  in  this  matter,  and  is  extremely  useful  to  me  in  many 
otliiT  waj's  besides  merely  copying.  I  know  other  persons  hero  who  can  copy 
Spanish,  but  I  would  have  many  ditlicultics  in  getting  along  with  any  of 
t!iem.  In  the  recorder's  oilice  it  is  almost  impossible  to  obtain  room  for  mnio 
than  one  copyist.  I  h.ave  now  examined  the  largo  bound  volumes,  prtj:o 
after  page.  !Much  of  it  is  hard  to  decipher.  Yesterday  afternoon,  in  one  of 
our  studies  of  three  words  combined  in  one,  we  had  the  aid  of  I,nacio  St  pul- 
veda,  district  jmlge,  and  .lunn  de  Toro,  both  educated  nativt's,  and  iit  last 
^Ir  Murray  and  I  solved  the  problem,  he  part  and  I  the  balance.  This  occurs 
very  often  with  these  Los  Angeles  jiapcrs.  To-morrow  we  will  begin  the  city 
records,  which,  I  am  informed,  have  nmch  valuable  historical  matter.  'I'lio 
prefect  iccords  I  will  di'op  for  a  while,  although  I  have  references  to  uhk li 
interesting  matter  yet  to  be  copied,  liesides  the  city  lecords,  there  arc  !-c\ui 
large  volumes  in  the  clerk's  olliec,  entitled  '  Civil,'  that  'will  have  to  be  lo(  >ivi  d 
into,  every  page,  in  order  to  be  sure  I  lose  not  a  single  fact  of  interest.  Many 
Aii'jdiiwn  manifest  considerable  interest  in  this  work,    if  1  can  get  access 


ARDUOUS  LABORS. 


nil 


to  materiiil  in  the  liands  of  Coronel  and  others,  I  doubt  not  I  will  find  docu- 
iiu'iits  often  of  greater  value  tlian  these  archives  I  am  now  examining.  If  so, 
sKcli  papers  I  will  have  to  copy  myself,  for  their  holders  will  bo  cautious  in 
htting  any  go  out  of  their  possession." 


The  1 3tli  of  April  lie  writes : 


"FoUoM'ing  your  liint  that  every  day  is  important  in  your  investigations, 
I  fioiid  the  index,  so  that  my  old  friend  R.  ( '.  Hopkins  can  proceed  at  once 
til  ^:ive  you  his  valuable  aid.  I  will  try  to  extract  some  valuable  le.'iding  notes 
fioni  our  old  citizens  as  leisure  may  permit.  Think  I  vill  succeed.  1  scud 
index  to  vol.  iii.  Ainjilct  Cilij  Archives.  1  sent  index  to  vol.  iv.  witli  my  last. 
My  idea  is  to  make  a  complete  index,  in  about  the  same  style,  to  encli  vohime 
of  the  archives.  If  you  observe  anything  not  copied  in  full  that  ought  to  be 
ci'[ii('d,  please  advise  me.  ^Ir  JIurray  is  at  work  now  on  the  iiyinitniiiii iiiua 
(f  ISoS,  IS.'JO,  and  1844,  cojiying  portions  in  full ;  tli(.'  lest  I  will  ai)ridge.  We 
arc  approaching  the  end  of  our  full  copies.  The  ai/iiiilamiciitoii,  M-ritten  by 
Mr  ll.incroft,  1  believe  would  be  eminently  useful  to  hn\'j-crs  of  a  future  day. 
I  iloulit  if  i\w  ayuntam'iemo  records  are  as  full  anywhere  as  at  Los  Aul;!  1<  s. 
At  Santa  Barbara  Mr  Packard  told  me  nearly  all  are  lost.  Los  Angeles  appears 
to  have  no  records  back  of  18l2S." 


And  again,  the  2 2d  of  April: 


' '  1  sent  you  in<liccs  of  the  first  four  volumes  of  the  city  archives.  The  aynn- 
tomlciitosoi  IS.*}!!,  KS37,  1S.38,  18;i!»,  and  IS44  are  still  to  be  abridged.  'J'he  nine 
^||ll!mcs  of  civil,  and  seven  volumes  of  crimin.'d  records  I'emain  to  be  ana- 
ly/cil.  They  present  very  little,  I  think,  for  full  copies.  I  met  ( 'olonel  Warner 
il.iy  before  yesterday,  and  mcntioneil  tlie  matter  of  his  book  and  Mr  Jljincroft's 
wishes.  I  remembered  the  book,  part  of  M'hicli  I  read  long  since  in  liLs  oliice. 
1  told  him  that  you  relied  on  him  for  his  Recollections.  He  said  he  showed 
Villi  the  book  at  San  Francisco;  but  that  you  had  made  no  particular  request 
<if  liiiu  for  what  he  had  already  written,  or  for  its  continuance,  but  added  he 
Wduhl  send  you  his  Recollections  if  so  recpu'sted  by  you.  It  appears  to  be  just 
its  1  had  imagined,  he  is  waiting  to  be  further  coaxed.  I  semi  to-day  an  inci- 
dent in  his  life  from  the  city  archives;  he  no  doubt  can  add  many  of  greater 
interest.  I  mentioned  to  Mr  Murray  your  suggestion  as  to  Santa  Uiirbarii. 
llr  s;ad  he  could  allbrd  to  attend  to  it  at  the  old  price,  twenty  cents  a  folio. 
Tniliably  this  would  not  bo  too  much,  iov  those  archives  are  written  by  the 
priests,  who  always  write  worse  than  lawyers." 


yi'dy  3d  lie  says; 


"  1  hud  a  more  kindly  spirit,  or  greater  confidence  in  me,  growing  up  among 
t'li'  old  native  Calil'ornians.  Two  very  valuable  aids  were  otl'ered  me  day  before 
yistciday  by  Leonardo  t.'ota  and  Agustin  t)lvera.  Antonio  Coronel  made  a 
tiiiiihiroll'er  a  couple  of  weeks  since.  1  think  I  will  get  from  them  nuich  useful 
iu.urniatiou." 


tMM 


512 


HISTORIC  RESEARCHES  IN  THE  SOUTH. 


'■■• 


About  this  time  a  3'oung  follovr  named  Kelly  came 
to  me  and  represented  that  ho  had  great  influeneo 
with  the  old  families,  asking  a  connnission  from  me  to 
obtain  narratives  and  papers.  He  brought  a  letter 
from  It.  C.  Tlopkiiis,  of  the  United  States  surveyoi-- 
general's  office,  who  strongly  recommended  him. 
Unfortunately  for  me,  I  employd  him.  In  this  part 
of  my  work  one  bad  man  would  undo  tlie  worJc  of 
six  good  men. 

This  Kell}^  assured  me  that  all  southern  California 
would  receive  him  with  open  arms.  Among  others, 
he  mentioned  the  name  of  Judge  Hayes,  and  I  v/roto 
to  the  iudixe  about  him.     But  before  the  following 

I/O  w 

reply  came,  I  had  seen  enough  of  Mr  Kelly  never  to 
wish  again  to  see  him.  lie  made  a  little  trip  south 
for  me,  but  I  soon  recalled  and  discharged  him. 

"  III  respect  to  Mr  Kolly,"  writes  Judge  Hayes  the  27th  of  Octohcr,  "  I 
hardly  know  what  to  say.  lie  told  me  he  hiid  special  access  to  a  diary  kejit 
through  his  whole  life  by  Ignacio  del  Vjillc.  By  others  who  liad  seen  Dun 
Andres'  papers,  I  was  led  to  l)olievc  he  had  lift  nothing  worthy  of  notice'. 
Mr  Kelly  also  told  me  he  had  the  privilege  of  examining  the  San  Fernando 
^[i3sion  records.  What  these  are  I  know  not ;  I  douht  if  there  are  any  of  v;i''.;.\ 
Mr  Kelly  seemed  to  think  that  Sun  Gabriel,  San  Lnis  Key,  and  linn  Jiiiui 
(.'apistrano  had  valuable  records.  I  have  never  heard  of  any,  aii.l  do  not  In.- 
licvc  tluMc  arc  any.  I  have  received  two  diaries,  one  from  V.  I\'cllus  and  oi.o 
from  Captain  Robbins,  besides  some  papers  of  I'edro  C.  Cirrillo.  I  nly 
nnich  on  the  Coroncl  papers.  Agustin  Olvera  died  the  Otii  of  this  nmntli. 
His  son,  Ciirlos  Olvera,  took  all  his  papers  to  his  home  at  Chular,  !Moiit(  icy 
county,  ill  order  to  arrange  thoin.  Ho  is  executor,  and  I  am  attorney  tVir 
hiin." 

The  next  most  important  work  to  bo  done  in  tlio 
way  of  obtaining  material  was  to  secure  co[)ies  of  tli*^ 
archives  of  Santa  Barbara  mission.  Of  the  men  em- 
ployed by  Judge  Hayes  in  my  behalf  at  Los  Angeles, 
as  we  have  .seen,  Edward  F.  Alurray  proved  to  be  tlio 
best.  I  endeavored  to  iiuluce  Judg*;  ITa3'es  to  go  to 
Santa  Barbai'a  and  make  an  abstract  of  the  arcliixcs 
there,  as  he  had  done  at  San  Diego  and  at  Los  An- 
geles. But  prolessional  duties  would  not  longer  l'<) 
thrust  aside;  and,  besides,  his  failing  health  wariud 


INSTRUCTIONS. 


513 


liim  to  put  his  house  in  order  for  that  most  unwel- 
come of  visitors,  death. 

Mr  IMurray  was  recommended  very  highly  by 
Judge  Hayes  for  the  Santa  Barbara  mission,  and  as 
lie  expressed  his  willingness  to  go,  an  engagement  was 
ellected,  beginning  about  the  middle  of  June  1870, 
and  which  continued  with  a  few  interruptions  to  1878. 

He  was  a  faithful  and  competent  man,  and  his 
abstracts  on  the  whole  gave  satisfaction.  It  was  no 
easy  matter  for  a  writer  in  San  Francisco  to  send  a 
stranger  to  work  on  a  distant  mass  of  papers,  con- 
terniu":  which  neither  had  much  knowlediije,  and  have 
the  requisite  material  properly  taken  out;  but  Mr 
^lurray,  besides  being  a  man  of  quick  perception, 
thorough  education,  and  wide  experience,  had  served 
so  long  and  so  well  under  the  able  directorship  of 
Judge  Hayes  that  there  was  really  less  difficulty  than 
I  liad  anticipated. 

This  was  in  no  small  measure  due  to  the  careful 
instructions  of  Mr  Oak,  under  whose  watchful  super- 
vision the  entire  work  of  Mr  Murray,  and  of  all  other 
searchers  emjdoyed  by  me,  was  conducted.  Being 
somewhat  unique,  and  necessarily  so,  for  the  work 
was  individual,  I  give  in  substance  these  instructions, 
which  possibly  in  some  measure  may  prove  suggestive 
to  others  acting  under  like  circumstances: 

The  paper  on  which  the  copies  were  to  bo  made  waa  ruled  with  pcrpcn- 
•liiular  red  lines,  so  as  to  form  a  margin  on  either  side,  with  the  viov  of 
liinding  the  sheets  in  volumes.  Mr  Murray  was  directed  to  write  only  on 
I'll!'  side  of  the  paper,  between  the  red  lines,  and  to  leave  at  least  one  blank 
line  ;it  the  bottom  of  each  age.  As  a  rule  but  one  document  was  to  be  put 
'ipijii  a  page,  except  in  cases  of  mere  titles  or  short  abridgments,  when  plenty 
<jt'  spiioo  was  to  be  left  between  the  documents. 

"Arrange  the  documents  for  copying,"  ho  continues,  "as  nearly  in 
ilirmiological  order  as  possible;  but  do  not  waste  much  time  in  this  atrange- 
iiii'iit,  as  exact  regularity  is  not  of  much  importance.  Write  tlu;  title  of  eacii 
il  (uiiiout,  whether  it  be  of  any  importance  or  not,  with  enough  of  cxpUinu- 
ti"ii  to  make  it  perfectly  clear  what  the  document  is.  In  some  cases  this 
titli'  will  be  enough;  in  others  the  title  should  be  followed  by  an  abridgment 
ot  ronti'uts;  but  in  most  cases  it  should  be  followed  by  a  literal  copy. 

' '  1'  ini.sii  one  document  before  beginning  another ;  and  let  one  follow  another 
Lit.  Ind.    3J 


^vh.;ii 


hi    « 


514 


HISTORIC  RESEARCHES  IN  THE  SOUTH. 


;  i^ 


M-ithont  tryin;^  to  keep  titles,  iilH-idgmcnta,  ami  copies  separate,  as  li.is  lioen 
clone  at  Los  Angeles.  But  a  book  of  any  length,  -wliich  will  make  a  siiijiU 
Volume  of  itself,  may  be  copied  scpanitely,  and  tlie  Mork  done  by  u.ssiatiiiiLs 
may  of  course  be  kept  separate  if  more  convenient.  Tlio  old  missioi\  bu.pks 
of  baptisms,  marriages,  etc.,  are  in  charge  of  the  jiarish  cui'ate;  please  ni:ik<! 
fi'om  them  a  list  of  jiadres,  with  the  date  of  the  first  and  last  entries  maiin 
))y  each  patlre.  There  are  also  a  few  books  of  San  Buenaventura  mission 
from  which  yon  cnn  derive  some  information.  Get  all  you  can  from  tin' 
county  archives,  but  thi;re  is  very  littlo  there.  Send  up  your  work  willi 
your  bill  at  the  end  of  each  week." 

WItli  those  general  rules  may  bo  placed  several  ex- 
tracts iVoiu  letters  Avritten  at  various  times,  all  rormiii;^- 
part  of  the  instructions: 

"I  think,  after  your  experience  with  Judge  Hayes,"  he  writes,  "you  will 
find  no  dilliculty  in  doing  the  work  satisfactorily,  especially  as  nearly  all  lli", 
Santa  IJ.ii-bara  papers  should  be  copied  literally.  The  only  classes  of  diMii- 
monts  which  will  have  to  be  very  nmeh  abridged  M'ill  be  mission  account^, 
in  which  of  course  long  lists  of  items  shouhl  not  bo  copied.  In  such  cases  a 
clear  statement  of  the  nature  of  the  account,  the  parties  represented,  tlio 
general  nature  of  the  items — cattle,  grain,  tools,  etc. — and  the  totals  shoi^M 
be  given. 

"  From  the  San  Buenaventura  piuJron  you  will  take  totals  year  by  ye.ir; 
but  of  course  we  care  notliing  for  mere  names  of  Indian  neophytes.  ]''rom  the 
book  of  invoices  you  will  take  totals  and  some  extracts  showing  t!u;  chi.-s  ui 
merchandi.se  furnished,  and  prices.  I  cannot  well  specify  what  infurmatiuii  to 
take  from  old  rcsidi'nts,  because  we  need  almost  -verything  relating  lo  a 
period  preceding  1849:  Personal  reminiscences,  amusing  anecdotes,  biogriipli- 
ical  not<>s  of  prominent  men  and  women,  historical  events,  mannei's  mil 
customs  of  the  Califoniians,  amusements,  politics,  family  history,  etc.-- iu 
f.ict  all  that  anyboily  can  remember.  Of  course  you  wiLl  make  this  work,  iit, 
present,  secondary  to  that  of  the  archives.  You  may,  if  you  like,  keep  i:  ii 
fill  up  spare  time.  Go  first  to  the  eldest  and  most  intel'igent  persons;  ::\A 
meantime  do  all  you  can  to  interest  the  old  families  in  the  work. 

"  Tlio  town  maps  need  not  bo  copieil;  neither  is  it  necessary  to  trace  ;iiiy 
bignatures.  Ohl  plans  of  the  mission  and  presidio  should  be  traced.  Always 
iise  figures,  even  iu  copying,  to  express  numbers.  Be  careful  not  to  eojiy  in 
full  when  all  the  infonnation  can  l)etter  be  conveyed  in  a  i-vf  words.  Maki' 
all  work  secondary  to  that  at  the  mission.  It  wcmld  be  well  always  to  I'-ok 
forward  among  the  papers  and  send  me  a  note  before  copying  limg  and  im- 
portant documents.  Mission  documents  of  all  kinds  between  l7M4and  l^-'t 
are  of  greater  importance  than  those  before  17S4.  I  will  send  you  a  iist  uf 
the  archbishops  documents." 

I  will  now  give  a  sketch  of  Mr  Murray's  labors  at 
Santa  Bdrbara  and  vichiity,  as  nearly  in  his  own  laii- 


m 


MURRAY'S  REPORT. 


.->!.■) 


Gfiinoc  as  practicable.     The  12tli  of  June  fi-om  Santa 
JJurhara  he  writes: 

"  I  arrivcil  at  this  plfico  this  morning.  I  went  at  once  to  the  mission,  and 
■vvas  received  very  kindly  hy  Father  Sanchez  and  a  young  Irish  jiriest  whose 
n.iine  I  did  not  learn,  Father  Romo  being  absent.  They  are  disposed  to 
jilVord  me  every  facility  in  their  power,  but  unfortunately  could  ]iliioe  at  my 
(lUjiosal  only  a  manuscript  volume  of  Memoriati,  the  remainder  of  the  archives 
l.iiiig  in  charge  of  Father  Romo,  who  is  not  expected  to  return  for  several 
d;iys.  I'adre  Sanchez,  however,  gave  me  a  note  to  the  parish  priest,  who  has 
kiiiilly  consented  to  allow  mo  to  copy  from  the  books  in  his  charge.  There 
arc  several  volumes,  records  of  l>irtl<s,  baptisms,  confirmations,  and  deaths, 
niid  ill  these  I  hope  to  liud  enough  to  keep  me  busy  until  the  libruriau's 
nlnru." 

Without  breaking  the  narrative  with  constant  rcfcr- 
onecs  and  dates,  at  the  J-anie  time  addini;  sutiicieiit 
coiiiicction,  I  will  select  from  Mr  Murray's  letters,  ia 
tlicir  proper  order,  such  items  as  I  deem  worthy  of 
record.  jNIr  Murray  writes  carefully,  and  his  IcMij^ 
labor  and  experience  in  these  parts  entitle  his  worls 
to  oreat  weight: 

''There  are  in  charge  of  t!  3  curate,"  he  goes  on  to  say,  "two  sets  of 
rccdrds,  one  for  the  Inili.ins  and  one  for  tlic  white  population.  Among  tliesc 
iivc  two  volumes  of  records  of  San  Ruenaventur.a  mission,  one  a  jKtilroii  be- 
uiiming  in  tiie  year  IS'J.j,  the  other  copies  of  invoices  of  the  annual  reniitfaincc 
I'l'  merchandise  to  the  mission.  In  the  county  recorder's  ollice  there  arc  two 
volanies,  Aciierdo'i  del  Ajjinitaviiento  da  Santa  Burhura  dfsdc  13  <le  Mdrr.u  de 
J^.'/f^,  t\\ul  ending  April  '2."),  1S30,  and  Solarex  y  Ti-rrcnoi  de  Lnhrur.d,  this 
list  being  grants  of  land  within  the  city.  In  the  city  clerk's  ofBce  there  is 
one  vcihime  of  Ordcnanzax of  the  Coiikcjo  Municipdl  from  1850  to  isr)4.  I  h;ive 
idrciidy  secured  one  copyist,  and  have  in  view  another.  I  have  proc\ired  ii 
)il;ae  to  board  as  near  as  possible  to  the  mission,  yet  I  am  nearly  three 
'jiiMrtcrs  of  a  mile  from  it.  Shall  Uike  my  lunch  with  mc,  and  anticipate  a 
]ilcasuut  walk  morning  and  evening. 

"The  first  day  I  went  up  to  the  mission  they  showed  me  nn  old  book  of 
.lA7)((/r/((,t,  which  they  said  had  been  by  chance  left  out  of  tlie  library,  and 
wliicli  I  was  welcome  to  use.  It  was  mostly  accounts  which  would  have  to 
1"  vciy  much  abridged,  and  I  did  not  intend  taking  it  up,  only  as  a  last  resort. 
1  \M  lit  up  a  few  days  after  an<l  asked  to  see  the  book,  and  they  handed  me 
I'lir  cif  Pdtinteg.  I  intimated  that  it  was  not  the  same  I  had  seen  on  my  first 
\  i-it,  Imt  they  assured  me  that  it  was.  I  was  not  disposed  to  dispute  it.  and 
iil'tt  r  a  little  examination  was  pleased  to  find  that  it  was  perhaps  the  best 

' 'i  'hilt  tliey  could  have  given  me,  as  it  contains  the  reports  of  the  mission 

f  11 '111  its  foundation. 

"I  send  you  this  week,"  writing  the  2d  of  July,  "the  Acuerdos  del 


510 


HISTORIC  RESEARCHES  IX  THE  SOUTH. 


Ayvntnmhnto  complete,  a  portion  of  the  Onlcnanzas,  and  Canamientos  ile 
IikIIos,  and  ('aMiniki  to»  ili:  Ion  de  /'(hoh  ci>niplcte.  I  have  already  starti'u 
OHO  (if  my  assistants  at  the  mission  to  copy  tliu  I'uleniea,  1  have  ascertained 
the  names  of  several  of  the  old  residents  who  are  most  likely  to  give  me 
information,  and  I  think  I  have  found  one  who,  if  so  disposed,  can  give  some 
clew  to  the  city  papers  of  lS3o-.")0,  lost  several  years  since.  There  is  an  oM 
man  by  the  name  of  liurkc,  who  has  been  hero,  I  think,  since  1830.  Hecanu! 
from  Los  Angeles,  and  was  concerned  in  an  affair  with  one  Maria  Pcgi.  Sht^ 
was  banished  to  San  Diego,  and  Biu'ke  to  Santa  rwii'bara.  Yon  should  liave 
a  copy  of  the  proceedings  in  this  case  among  the  Los  Angeles  papers.  I  pro- 
pose visiting  him  this  week.  I  can  make  a  tracing  of  tlie  old  presidio  anl 
most  of  the  adjoining  houses  that  existed  some  forty  or  fifty  years  .ago.  At 
the  mission  one  afternoon  one  of  the  priests  asked  nie  if  the  Mr  Bancroft  liy 
whom  I  was  employed  was  not  formerly  United  States  minister  to  Germany, 
who  had  written  .'igainst  tb.c  (.'atholics.  I  assured  him  that  he  was  not  tlie 
same  Mr  Bancroft,  whereUjion  he  seemed  satisfied." 

A  week  later  he  says: 

"  Father  Romo  arrived  Friday  morning.  He  leaves  again  to-morrow  for 
San  Francisco,  and  will  call  on  Mr  Bancroft.  lie  has  placed  everything  at  my 
disposal,  and  has  given  me  the  room  formerly  occupied  by  Father  tiouzalc; , 
fur  myself  and  assistants.  Father  Romo  tolil  me  that  in  the  ofTice  at  tlic 
mission  there  is  a  board  about  two  feet  square  with  the  Lord's  prayer  in  om^ 
of  the  Indian  languages  ^vritten  on  it,  whicli  was  used  in  teaching  the  Indiana 
the  I'ldhe  Xiientro. 

"  There  are  reports  here  of  all  the  missions  from  as  early  a.s  1773  to  183(>. 
The  earlier  reports  are  very  fidl,  many  of  them  giving  the  date  of  th<  ir 
establi.shment,  their  geographical  position,  distance  from  adjoining  missions, 
the  names  of  the  fathers  in  charge,  and  in  some  few  instances  the  age,  yvnv^ 
of  sen'ice,  and  place  of  birth  of  missionaries.  As  it  is  quite  probable  tlmt 
tlie  originals,  and  in  some  cases  the  copies  of  many  of  the  papers  of  tliis 
mission  are  contained  in  those  of  the  archbishop,  it  would,  perhaps,  save  tin: 
rccopying  (>(  some  of  these  documents  if  you  would  send  me  a  list  of  tlio  ■■ 
taken  from  his  library.  I  would  like  suggestions  as  to  the  copying  of  cor- 
respondence. That  of  Serra,  Lasuen,  Duran,  and  Payeras,  presidents  of  tlio 
missions,  and  also  that  of  the  viceroys  are  for  the  most  part  to  be  copied  in 
full,  I  presume." 


-;, 


>  I 


Passincf  on  to  AuGfust,  I  find  in  his  several  letters 
the  followin<^  items  of  interest : 

"  I  am  very  sorry,"  he  says,  "  that  I  should  have  copied  the  Hcprcfniin- 
Clones  of  Padre  Senu  of  1773,  but  your  mention,  in  your  last,  of  I'atli'  r 
Palou's  book  was  the  first  intimation  I  ever  had  of  its  existence.  I  sin  1 
you  a  list  of  several  documents  of  date  prior  to  1784,  as  also  the  titles  of  \ 
few  others  of  hiter  date,  alwjut  tlic  copying  of  which  I  am  in  doubt.  I  lind 
it  very  slow  work,  and  exceedingly  trying  to  the  eyes,  reading  these  ])a|n:  -; 
and  lately  the  necessity  of  assorting,  arranging,  and  selecting  work  fm  i-y 


DE  LA  GUEPwRA  PAPERS. 


r,\: 


assistants  has  oWigcd  ine  to  read  continually,  allowing  mo  no  time  to  <lo  any 
Cdpying.  There  scenis  to  be  an  impression  that  any  one  who  lias  u  sniatti'ving 
of  .Spanish  and  can  write  is  capable  of  doing  this  work,  wliich,  however, 
does  not  agree  with  my  experience,  and  that  the  price  paid  is  excessive. 
Altliough  not  a  novice,  I  do  not  consider  myself  an  expert  in  this  biisims-.s; 
aiiil  yet,  I  employ  an  assistant  whoso  language  is  Spanish,  and  whom  1  have 
ijuite  frequently  had  to  help  along. 

"  Yesterday  I  examined  the  Do  laGucrra  family's  papers,"  he  begins,  Sep- 
timber,  "and  tliink  there  may  bo  many  documents  of  interest  to  you  among 
tlKiii.  There  is  a  large  mass  of  these  papers,  principally  correspondence  of 
t!ir  old  Comandantc  do  la  Ctuerra,  extending  from  the  year  1801  to  IS")!), 
iKL'ounts  and  inventories  of  the  presidios  of  San  Diego,  Santa  IVirbaia,  and 
.Moateri'y,  araneelcs,  etc.  Have  you  the  account  of  the  ranon  pcrdiih,  and 
tni-  iiuliiienloa  2'f»oti  of  Santa  Barbara?  From  the  extent  of  his  researches  in 
the  mission  archives  I  conclude  that  Mr  Bancroft  intends  to  give  a  most  com- 
I'lete  histoiy  of  the  mission  system,  and  that  everything  relating  to  tlie  In- 
ilians,  who  were  the  object  of  this  system,  their  manners  and  customs,  both  in 
tiic'ir  savage  and  semi-civilized  state,  must  be  subject  of  interest.  1'his 
Beeuisto  be  the  first  and  only  formal  search  that  has  been  made  of  the  missiou 
I'ucliives;  however,  much  information  may  have  been  derived  from  other 
sources.  Tliere  is  more  authentic  infonnation  contained  in  these  records  tlian 
I'liii  possibly  bo  included  in  any  other  public  or  private  archives,  excepting, 
l«i haps,  those  of  tlie  college  of  San  l''eniando  do  Mexico.  My  instructions  to 
my  ii.s.sistants  are  to  copy  in  full  the  reports  of  the  president,  observing  tlio 
iiuiuericitl  order  of  questions,  and  to  copy  from  the  reports  of  tlie  missions 
ri.-pectively  the  con'esponding  answers,  only,  however,  when  they  diiier  ina- 
t<  rially  from  those  of  the  presidents.  I  wish  you  to  feel  that  in  this  work 
yniir  inti^'cst  is  mine;  that  I  idealize  fully  not  only  tJio  importance  but  the 
imperative  necessity  of  thoroughness  and  all  pos.siblc  accuracy.  It  is  a  matter 
vi  pride  with  me  that  my  work  shall  give  satisfaction.  I  have  a  number  of 
riljnrts  showing  tlie  names  of  the  diti'erent  fathers,  the  missions  they  were 
ii^si^ned  to,  date  of  their  arrival,  and  that  of  their  death  or  return  to  Mexico. 
Tlicre  are  many  years  missing,  but  with  the  aid  of  the  reports  from  the  difl'er- 
eiit  missions,  the  general  biennial  correspondence  of  the  missions,  and  circu- 
liiis  of  the  presidents,  I  hope  to  produce  a  complete  list. 

"Heretofore,  agreeably  to  your  suggestions,  I  have  made  no  attempt  to 
iiiviuigc  or  classify  the  papers  chionohigically  or  with  reference  to  .sid^ect; 
I'Ut  UDW  that  I  am  about  to  begin  the  abridging  and  condensing,  I  do  n(jt  see 
li'iw  it  can  well  bo  avoided,  at  least  the  arran ^iug  of  .subjects.  Where  tliere 
arc  se\eial  documents  relating  to  the  same  subject,  the  abridging  will  bo 
(:  I  tally  facilitated  and  accelerated  by  having  them  together.  In  such  cases, 
lieciuently,  by  givhig  one  full  abridgment,  the  title,  date,  and  signatures  only 
<!  the  otiicr  arc  re(iuired  ;  if  their  purport  be  tlic  .same,  reference  can  be  made 
t'l  tlie  leading  one,  and  if  there  be  anything  additional,  a  lino  ortwij^iU 
buiiice  to  show  what  it  is. 

"I  send  herewith  the  first  bundle  of  gem-ral  index.  I  have  numbered 
iill  the  titles  ami  abridgments  of  documents  and  arranged  them  under  diller- 
1  III  heads,  and  as  fai- as  possible  in  chronological  order.     All  the  documents 


'.fl 


JlS 


HISTORIC  RESEARCHES  IN  THE  SOUTH. 


i.H'' 


I  am  marking  with  subjects,  title,  and  numlicr  in  the  same  way,  so  that  they 
will  c'oiTcspond  with  tlie  index.  Fatiier  Itomo  is  plcaseil  with  tliis  (irdcr, 
whidi  1  liave  i'X]ilainud  to  him,  and  assures  me  that  it  will  not  be  changed ; 
BO  that  should  you  at  any  time  ruijuire  a  copy  of  any  of  these  papers,  it  can 
lie  designated  by  subject,  title,  and  number,  and  save  all  needless  delay  in 
searching  for  it." 


In  answer  to  fears  expressed  that  others  niiglit  sock 
make 
October : 


to  make  use  of  the  work  he  was  doing,  he  wiites  iu 


\il'' 


m 


"No  one  has  ever  examined,  copied,  or  taken  notes  from  the  matci'ial 
extracted  by  nie  for  you;  no  one  has  ever  applied  to  mo  for  permission  to  do 
so;  neither  is  it  possilile  for  any  one  except  the  fathers  to  gain  access  to  tlie 
papers.  I  iiso  as  a  « liting  room  the  sanic  apartment  in  whicli  tlie  papers 
weie  kept  wlieii  you  visited  the  mission  iu  1S74.  I  am  never  absent  during 
the  day,  and  at  niglit  tlie  room  is  locked  and  the  key  kept  by  Father  lldiuu. 
I  am  under  the  impression  tliat  some  material  was  derived  from  these  papers 
for  Father  Oleeson's  work." 

"In  my  last  lot  of  manuscript  I  made  a  copy  of  Echeandia's  bando  of  (Ith 
of  January  1831,  with  notes  by — I  siiould  judge — Father  Xarciso  Duriiii, 
tince  his  initials,  thus,  ii'.i'  wiiUt  Fr  jV.  JJ,,  occur  at  the  end  of  tlio  htiiido,  and 
the  wi'iting  tliroughout  seems  to  be  his.  I  intended  to  abridge  it,  but  did  nut 
see  how  I  could  well  do  so.  I  am  finding  several  documents  that  I  consider 
too  important  to  be  abridged,  especially  tliose  relating  to  the  Secidarhacioii  il,- 
iis  Miiiviies.  There  are  j-et  to  be  indexed  six  hundred  and  thirty-live  doeii- 
ments.  Of  these,  about  one  liuudred,  perhaps  more,  will  have  to  be  abridged, 
an<l  less  than  half  that  number  copied  in  full.  There  are  also  counted  in 
tiiis  number,  one  hundred  and  twenty-live  letters,  the  correspondence  of  the 
inissi(m  presidents,  and  many  of  the  higher  military  ofiicials.  I  am  sorry  to 
learn  that  my  abridgments  have  lieen  too  full,  and  would  feel  very  tliankt'ul 
for  a  few  suggestions.  This  condensing  and  abridging  is  very  perplexing  at 
times. " 

Toward  the  close  of  the  year  he  meets  with  some 
hinderances : 

"I  have  been  unable  to  get  at  the  papers  in  the  mission  for  the  last  three 
weeks,'"  he  writes  the  21st  of  December,  "owing  to  tlie  diphtheria  haxiug 
matle  its  appearance.  There  ai-c  still  several  cases,  including  two  of  tin; 
brothers ;  and  one  of  the  pupils  has  died. " 

In  common  with  all  the  proud  old  families  of  Cali- 
fornia, the  descendants  of  De  la  Guerra  had  to  be 
won    from   a   state  of  prejudice   and   disinclination. 


THE  OLD  CALIFORNIA  FAMILIES. 


519 


The  25tli  of  January  Mr  Murray  writes  from  Santa 
JJarhara: 

"  There  ia  no  disposition  on  the  part  of  the  Do  la  Gucrra  family  to  give, 

(ir  t'\en  lend,  any  of  their  papers  to  Mr  liancroft — that  is,  to  send  them  to  .San 

I'liiucisco.     It  is  even  doul)tfiil  if  I  ean  get  permission  to  take  tliem  to  my 

nxim  for  convenience  in  copying.     They  are  kept  in  an  old  diusty  and  tlindy 

lii.'lited  attic,  or  alto,  and  there  I  expect  I  sliall  be  obliged  to  do  all  my  work. 

I  li.ive  already  spoken  to  some  one  of  the  mendjers  of  all  the  principal  Cali- 

loiiiian  families,  and  although  they  have  all  ollered  to  furnish  me  with  papcis 

in  greater  or  less  numbers  for  copying  here,  none  of  tiiem  'vill  consent  to 

tlidr  leaving  8anta  ]>;lrbara.     They  understand  tiie  a<lvantagi!  of  funiisliin;^ 

iiic  with  information,  in  order  that  their  families  may  be  fully  an<l  creditably 

I  (presented;  yet,  although  I  have  ollered  to  give  them  a  receipt  for  their 

[i.iliers,  and  have  assured  them  that  they  would  be  properly  arranged,  neatly 

liMiind,  (airefuUy  preserved,  or  .safely  returned  a.s  soon  as  the  work  is  cum- 

]ilitcd,  it  is  all  to  no  purpose.     Documents   that  before  my  impiiry  were 

wditldess,  and  would  eventually  have  been  consigned  to  the  ilanies  or  have 

I'uniislied  some  rat  a  lining  to  his  nest,  have  suddenly  acquired  a  value  that 

may  lie  measured  by  the  caprice  or  cupidity  of  tiieir  holders,  or  my  apparent 

iiiiHirL'rcnce  or  eagerness  to  obtiiin  them.     Hundreds  of  documents,  many  no 

duulpt  of  no  little  historical  interest,  have  been  carelessly  burned,  without 

iiny  assignable  reason.    A  large  numlier  have  been  used  for  kindling  lires  and 

manufacturing  cigarettes.     The  average  Californian  is  loath  to  believe  that 

all  American,  or  as  tln;y  woulil  say,  a  Yankee,  ciin  possibly  have  any  view 

but  that  of  pecuniary  gain  in  all  his  undertakings  and  enter,>rises;  ami  this, 

tngrther  with  his  natural  antii)athy  for  the  race,  docs  not  iiuJine  him  to  bo 

"liHiiitcrestedly  obliging.     Consequently  their  willingness  to  even  furnish  mo 

u  ith  the  j)uper3  for  copying  is  due  entirely  to  tiie  persuasiim  that  tlicir  own 

iiitcicsts  are  greatly  served  thereby.     1  do  not  apprehend  any  serious  dilii- 

iTilt  y  in  obtaining  any  and  all  papers  not  of  a  strictly  private  nature ;  fur, 

while  I  make  them  believe  that  these  papers  are  not  objects  of  great  or  even 

small  solicitiidc  with  me,  I  shall  also  be  careful  to  make  them  understand 

that  by  their  failure  to  furnish  me  with  whatever  infonnation,  oral  or  doru- 

iiiLiitary,  of  interest  to  me  that  they  may  possess,  they  will  be  the  losers.' 

Novcrtlielcss  Mr  INIurray  obtained  for  mo  many 
|ia[)ors  to  send  to  San  Francisco,  some  of  which  were 
to  1)0  copied  and  returned,  while  others  were  pennitled 
to  remain.  After  a  two  month.s'  ilhiess  he  write.,  the 
l:;tii  of  March  1877: 

•'As  to  my  mistake  in  underestimating  the  t'mo  necessary  to  complete  the 
inissinii  work,  I  can  only  say  that  the  appearance  of  the  papers,  tlieir  numlicr 
ami  their  importance,  as  I  supposed  without  having  read  them,  led  me  to 
think  two  Weeks  enough  for  their  completion.  I  proposed  to  look  overall  those 
iiliiing  to  matters  purely  ecclesiastical,  giving  tlieir  substance  L'  brief.    The 


\Hi 


523 


iii5iTorjc  re.";earciies  in  the  south. 


I 


])<)litical  corrcsp'mdfiico  I  expected  to  condonsc  very  mucli,  but  T  found 
4iliuii(hiiicu  of  matter  tliiit  I  could  not  omit,  and  in  many  cases  that  I  dared 
not  uljridge  lest  t!ie  meaning;  hIiouKI  be  ad'ccted.  In  letters  es|iecially,  and  in 
all  docuiiieuts  in  •vvliich  reference  is  njiulo  to  others,  expressions  are  fre(|Uently 
used  in  relation  to  persons  and  alTairs  previously  mentioned  whose  full  foici' 
and  precise  meaning  arc  somewhat  doubtful,  and  which  can  bo  ascertainiil 
only  by  careful  study  and  comparison  with  those  to  which  they  refer.  Again, 
the  authors  of  these  letters  did  not  at  all  times  express  themselves  with 
clearness  and  precision,  and  indeed  one  cannot  but  notice  that  their  language 
is  often  made  purposely  vague  and  obscure.  In  such  cases  I  prefer  that  either 
you  or  Mr  Laucroft  interpret  their  meaning." 


Writing  in  April,  Mr  Murray  says: 


"I  am  making  out  a  list  of  tho  padres  and  missions,  and  I  have  found  that 
it  requires  much  more  time  than  I  had  at  first  expected.  Tho  list  when  com- 
p'.eted  will  contain  an  abridged  account  of  tho  fathers,  their  names  urrangcil 
i:i  alphabetical  order,  the  date  of  their  ai'rival,  the  mission  or  missions  to  whii  li 
tliey  were  appointed,  with  the  date  of  such  appointments,  and  that  of  tht  ir 
transfer,  etc. ;  following  this  will  come  a  list  of  tlio  missions  in  their  regnl.u- 
order,  and  under  each  the  names  of  tho  padres  who  administered  them,  and 
the  dates  of  their  taking  charge,  the  capacity  in  which  they  served,  and  their 
duration  in  the  mission.  There  arc  thirty -one  lists  or  reports  of  tho  padri  s, 
the  earliest  that  of  1789  and  tho  latest  that  of  18.32.  Between  these  dates 
there  arc  misshig  those  corresponding  to  the  years  170O-1,  17'J-t-o,  1707.  .■.ml 
lS"2'2-30.  I  expect  to  supply  thein,  in  part,  from  the  mission  reports,  especially 
those  from  18±2-,30.  I  have  already  between  one  hundred  and  twenty  and  (iiii; 
hundred  and  thirty  names,  and  expect  to  add  from  ten  to  twenty  more.  Tlii.-i 
done,  there  remains  only  the  mission  accounts,  sermons,  etc. 

"I  shall  obtain  as  much  information  as  possible  about  Father  Oonzalrs. 
I  liad  expected  to  be  allowed  to  look  over  his  papers,  of  which  there  is  a  trnnl;- 
ful,  but  in  this  I  was  disappointed.  I  did  succeed  in  getting  a  few  of  tliciu 
when  I  first  came  here,  but  I  was  interrupted  by  one  of  the  fathers  whilu 
looking  over  them,  and  was  informed  that  Father  Romo  had  instructed  him  to 
allow  no  one  to  examine  them,  f  was  at  a  loss  to  account  fortius  at  tlmt 
time,  and  up  to  within  a  few  months  since,  when  Father  Romo  mentioni'd  in 
one  of  our  conversations  his  intention  of  writing  a  biography  of  Father 
Gonzales." 

The  5  th  of  May  saw  the  last  of  the  Santa  Barbai  a 
mission  archives  copied  or  condensed: 

"  I  made  no  extracts  from  the  Libr->  de  Sci'mnnes"  says  Mr  Murray,  "f'^f 
the  reason  that  tliere  is  nothing  of  special  interest  in  any  of  the  sermons.  '{"In  y 
are  all  apparently  copies  of  sermons  preached  in  Mexico  or  Spain,  and  continn 
nothing  but  what  applies  to  the  supposed  spiritual  condition  of  the  neophytis 
and  1  should  judge  them  to  bo  too  deep  even  for  the  neophyte  educated  in  tho 


THE  WORK  FINISHED. 


521 


mission,  and  wholly  incomprehensible  to  tlio  adult  convert.  From  the  Liliro 
tie  Siciiihrnii  I  havo  mailu  no  extracts,  as  I  expect  the  reports  'will  furnish  the 
Riinie  tacts. 

"In  making  notes  of  tho  mission,  I  pro^iosc,  as  before  stated,  to  give  a 
liijcf  account  of  its  present  appearance  and  conditinn;  tho  objects  of  intcr- 
c-it  within  tho  mission  and  churcli,  such  as  the  ontamentoH  y  raxoit  najradon,  of 
which  there  still  exist  several  vestments  and  vessels  flrst  used  in  tliis  nii;ision. 
1,1  till!  vault  underneath  tho  cliurch  arc  tho  remains  of  (.ieneral  Figucroa,  if  I 
Mii.it.ilic  not;  and  I  have  no  doubt  thero  arc  many  things  about  winch  a  brief 
laiiition  will  bo  acceptable.  Without  the  mission  proper  there  jiro  the 
(i)(  liiird,  tho  ruins  of  the  convert  houses,  tho  old  mill,  tho  tau  vats,  reservoir, 
iiiul  other  ol)jects  of  interest. 

"At  San  Buenaventura  thcro  is  an  ex-mission  chorister,  qu'tc  ohl,  \i t 
sound  in  mind,  and  intelligent.  IIo  speaks  Spanish  fluently,  luid  .still  retains 
lii-i  native  language,  lie  served  as  interpreter  for  the  fathers.  At  S.int;v 
liii's  there  are  several,  and  among  tliem  one  who  is  reported  to  havo  passed 
iiis  liundredth  year.  Ho  is  still  unusually  sound  in  body  ar.d  mind,  is 
Miiuewhat  intelligent,  has  a  good  memory,  ami  remembers  quite  distinctly 
the  founding  of  that  establishment  and  many  of  tho  events  connected 
with  it. 

' '  I  am  close  upon  the  track  of  the  missing  city  archives,  but  tho  prospect 
"f  getting  my  hands  on  them  is  by  no  means  encouraging.  There  is  an  old 
S[):uiiard  wliosc  name  has  been  given  mc,  a  resident  of  this  place,  who  told 
my  informant,  a  professional  gentleman  whom  I  consider  reliable,  that  lie  lias 
]'a[iL'i's  in  his  possession  which  if  published  would  imidicato  several  of  thu 
I'ldiiuiicnt  miMi  of  iSanta  Barbara  in  frauds  in  city  grants  of  land,  committed 
wliilu  they  were  in  tho  common  council. 

"On  inquiring  into  tho  histoi-y  of  families  hero,  lam  inclined  to  think 
that  the  character  even  of  somo  of  tlie  most  prominent  will  have  to  bo 
jiatflied  up  to  make  it  appear  oven  respectable,  T'ljro  have  been  practicei 
■unuiig  thu  old  Californians  that  are,  to  say  tho  least,  discredifcibKi  to  their 
name  and  family.  Illegitimate  children  abound;  and  in  one  of  the.  families  of 
Santa  Larbara,  which  has,  I  believe,  always  been  considered  among  the  iirst, 
tluy  have  brought  up,  in  close  companionship  with  their  legitimate  ollsj.ring, 
line  or  more  of  illegitimate  issue.  This  is  but  a  single  instance;  there  aro 
many  more,  I  am  told.  Thero  is  also  abundant  material  hero  for  another 
thaptcr  of  the  Burko  and  Maria  Pcgi  affair. 

"It  is  not  my  desiro  or  purpose  to  make  special  inquiry  as  to  the  evil  acts 
"f  those  whom  I  may  have  occasion  to  write  about;  but  I  suppose  that  it  is 
<|inte  as  desirable  to  know  the  evil  as  the  good  relating  to  these  persons,  in 
filler  to  form  a  just  opinion  of  their  character.  All  iufonnation  of  this  evil 
nature  I  havo  decided  to  send  you  on  separate  notes,  which  I  will  head 
'  lilaek  List,'  and  which  I  would  prefer  to  have  kept  by  them.selves,  that  no 
<iiit.-siile  person  be  allowed  access  to  them,  cither  at  present  or  in  the  future. 

"  I  havo  mado  a  uoto  of  the  reports,  which  the  blanks  show  to  be  want- 
in,' in  your  library,  and  which  do  not  exist  here;  and  should  I  find  ■•my  of 
them  ;it  the  nnsBiiou  I  am  about  to  visit,  I  will  make  necessary  extracts  and 
siiiii  them  to  you." 


m 


iaii' 


■mbk 


(02  HISTORIC  RrSF.ArwCIinS  IX  THE  souin. 

From  Sail  Buoiiaventuia  ho  writes  the  1 2th  of 
JuiK!: 

"I  liiivt'  liccii  at  tliis  place  since  tlio  flth  instant.  I  founil  iicrc  nt  tlm 
cliiii'c'li  tlu^  iiiiii.sli  rcconla  only.  l'"r<pin  tln'si'  I  liavc  Ixxn  able  to  extract  a  feu 
facts  of  intiTi'st  ami  to  coiniilett)  tiio  list  of  tin;  jiadn^s  who  nerved  this 
misHioii.  1  Khali  make  a  few  notes  from  the  rccortU  of  kiptisins,  niarriagtB, 
and  ch'atlis,  of  whatever  may  lio  useful  I'elatiii;,'  to  the  iji  ul,'  </.■  nr.oii. 

"'llieio  aio  tliroe  old  Californian  families  living  iu  and  near  tiiis  town. 
Arnaz,  the  most  important,  has,  I  am  told,  a  numlier  of  private  papers-  a 
whole  tnnikful,  one  ('f  the  sons  told  nic.  Ignacio  del  Valle,  who  lives  ,it 
the  ifaucho  (Janiulos,  some  tlfty  miles  distant,  is  also  said  to  iuive  an  aliun- 
dance  of  ])rivatc  papers.  At  >Santa  iut^s  I  will  complete  the  work  as  bonu 
aa  possible." 

Thi!  I7th  of  Aui^unt  Mr  Murray  sent  up  copies  of 
the  Sail  Buenaventura,  Santa  Ine.s,  and  La  Purisinia 
nii.ssion  ])aper.s. 

IJaci;  to  Santa  Barbara  again,  !Mr  ^lunay  makes 
another  eli'ort  to  .secure  the  J.)e  hi  Guerra  documents: 

"  I  have  not  had  access  to  the  De  la  (Juerr.i  papers  until  to-day,"  lie  writes 
tlio  J.">lii  of  October.  "  I  was  kept  waiting  for  over  a  month  for  the  return nl' 
Mis  ] )(!  latiuerra;  and  upon  her  arrival  lit;r(^,i;bout  two  weeks  since,  they  found 
another  pretext,  in  the  absonceof  Mr  l)ilililee,  for  putting  me  oil'  until  to-day. 
What  reason  they  have  for  this,  after  having  assured  me  something  like  n  ye;ir 
n:,-o  that  I  could  have  the  papers  for  copying  whenever  I  wished,  I  einniut 
ima  :ine.  There  will  bo  no  further  delay  in  tiic  work  on  tlu'se  papers.  I 
think  I  shall  have  no  trouble  in  inilucing  from  live  to  ten  prominent  (.'alifui- 
iiians,  men  or  women,  to  dictate  their  rcrucnloa.  I  have  already  taken  a  few 
notes  from  two  of  the  oldest  men  in  the  place." 

Ten  days  hiter  he  sent  an  instahncnt  of  the  Dc  li 
Guerra  papeis,  and  in  duo  time  copies  of  the  wholi' 
of  tliem. 

The  results  of  ]Mr  Murray's  long  and  faithful  labois 
are  additions  to  the  library  of  twelve  large  maim- 
Bcript  volumes  of  Santa  Barbara  mi.s.sion  archives; 
one  volume  of  Santa  Barbara  county  archives;  one 
volume  San  Buenaventura  mission;  one  volume  La 
Purfsima  mission;  one  volume  Santa  Int5s  mission; 
one  volume  mission  correspondence;  six  volumes  Do 
la  Guerra  documents,  besides  a  number  of  dictations 
by  old  residents,  and  a  large  quantity  of  original  docu- 


EXPEDITIONS  OF  MR  SAVAOK. 


833 


mt'iits  from  vuiioiH  simrccs.  Later  ^[r  ^riirray  tuok 
liis  Hout  ill  tliu  library  as  ouu  of  my  iiio.st  lailUrul 
assistants. 


A  further  most  important  work  in  southern  Cali- 
fornia was  that  performed  for  mo  by  ^Mr  Thoma.s 
iSava^e,  an  account  of  whic')   I  now  proceed  to  j^isi-: 

After  a  preliminary  examination  of  the  county 
aivldves  at  San  Jose  and  Salinas,  and  the  papers  at 
tlie  .fesuit  college  and  parochial  church  at  Santa  Clara, 
with  seveial  copyists,  notably  Senores  IMna,  Corona, 
and  (jIouk-'Z,  Mr  Savage  ])roceeded  in  March  1877  to 
Salinas  and  began  operations  in  a  largo  I'oom  which 
lie  rented  near  the  ofiicc  of  tho  recortler,  Jacob  11. 
Loese,  who  allorded  him  every  facility. 

Despatching  Gomez  in  search  of  native  Calil'orniana 
fi'om  wliom  a  narrative  <tf  recollections  was  desiivd, 
Mr  Savage  [)laced  before  the  others  books  of  rocoi'ds, 
and  directed  tiiem  what  and  how  to  abstract.  l*i-om- 
iiuiit  among  those  who  gave  In  their  testimony  at  this 
time  were  Francisco  Arce  and  T'rancisco  liico,  tho 
latter  detailing  the  particulars  of  1H45-G,  the  wars  of 
lilt'  revolution,  the  camjiaign  against  !Micheltoivna, 
and  the  actions  of  the  Californians  against  the  United 
States  forces.  Thus  passed  four  weeks,  when,  the 
wisrk  at  Salinas  being  accomplished,  the  copyists  were 
sent  back  to  San  Francisco,  and  Mr  Savage  proceeded 
to  AEontercy.  Here  were  imi>ortant  personages,  for 
instance,  Florcncio  Serrano,  Estevan  do  la  Torre, 
^Fauricio  Gonzalez,  Jt)hn  Chamberlin,  and  James 
^[••adows,  the  last  named  being  one  of  the  prisoners 
sent  from  California  to  Mexico  in  1840.  These  and 
other  dictations,  with  a  bundle  of  original  papers,  were 
tli<'  result  of  four  weeks'  labor  at  this  i)kice,  after 
wWuAi  Mr  Savage  returned  to  San  Francisco. 

A  second  trip  began  the  2 1st  of  ]May,  when  with 
till'  same  copyists  Mr  Savage  went  to  San  Jose, 
anil  after  a  month's  labor  secured  to  the  library  ;dl 
that  was  re(]uired  from  the  public  nrchives  of  that 


HISTORIC  RESEARCHES  IN  THE  SOUTH. 


]»lace,  which  consisted  of  six  volumes  of  records  and 
twenty-iivo  hundred  loose  documents,  ever}'  one  of 
which  Mr  Savage  carefully  examined  for  historical 
ilata.  Among  those  from  whom  dictations  were  tluii 
taken  was  Eusebio  Galindo.  From  the  heirs  of  the 
late  Antonio  Suiiol  a  collection  of  letters  by  John  A. 
Sutter  was  obtained. 

Sending  the  copyists  back  to  San  Francisco,  ]\[i- 
Savage  proceeded  with  Gomez  to  Santa  Cruz,  w^lier<  • 
the  books  and  loose  papers  of  the  mission  were  placed 
under  contribution,  and  also  the  public  papers,  which 
were  mostly  of  the  old  town  of  Branciforte.  From 
Father  Ilawes  and  Mr  McKinney,  county  clerk, 
Mr  Savage  received  many  favors.  Near  Watsonvilh' 
lived  Jose  Amador,  son  of  Pedro  Amador,  one  of  the 
soldiers  present  at  the  founding  of  San  Diego  ainl 
]\Ionterey,  and  for  many  years  sergeant  in  the  Sau 
Francisco  presidial  company.  "I  found  this  man  tif 
ninoty-six  years,"  writes  Mr  Savage,  "who  had  at  oik; 
tinu!  been  wealthy,  and  after  wdiom  Amador  count  v 
was  named,  living  in  great  poverty  under  the  care  dt" 
his  youngest  daughter,  who  is  married  and  has  many 
children.  He  granted  my  request  without  askiu.: 
gratuity,  and  in  six  days  narrated  two  hundred  and 
fort}'  jmges  of  original  information.  I  used  to  tak- 
every  day  something  to  the  children,  and  occasionally 
a  bottle  of  Bourbon  to  warm  the  old  man's  heart. 
The  17th  of  July  Mr  Savage  was  back  in  Sau 
Francisco. 


■I';' 


As  the  history  of  California  progressed  it  became 
evident  that,  notwithstanding  the  mass  of  material  iii 
hand,  namely  the  Hayes  collection,  mission,  goveiii- 
inent,  municipal,  and  private  archives,  transi'iipt-' 
mode  by  Hayes,  Mrj-ray,  Savage,  and  others,  tlieiv 
were  gaps  which  yet  more  thorough  research  aluif 
would  till;  or  rather,  from  a  fuller  insight  into  the 
subject,  and  the  reports  of  intelligent  persons,  I  wa- 
convinced  that  important  inf^'mation  romaincd  \et 


PIO  PICO'S  DICTATION. 


523 


unearthed,  and  I  could  not  rest  satisfied  without  it. 
There  were  church  records  to  Ije  looked  into  and 
utilized  at  nearly  all  the  former  missions  between 
Sau  Diego  and  San  Juan;  and  moreover,  it  was  im- 
]>i)itant  to  procure  the  version  of  old  Californians  and 
others  in  the  southern  counties  on  the  sectional  quar- 
ivls  there  existing,  especially  between  the  years  1831 
aiul  184G,  and  ev^en  appearing  during  the  last  struggle 
(if  the  Californians  and  IMcxicans  against  Uiiited 
States  occupation.  Till  now,  though  the  su)X'nos  and 
iiortenos  were  equally  represented  in  the  contemporary 
records  obtained,  yet  too  much  of  the  modern  dictated 
ti'stimony  had  described  those  occurrences  from  the 
northern,  or  Monterey  and  Sonoma,  points  of  view, 
^[en  and  women  still  lived  in  the  south  who  had 
taken  an  active  part  in  or  had  been  witnesses  of 
tliose  troubles;  and  from  them  more  or  less  unbiassed 
accounts  might  be  obtained.  Others  possessed  knowl- 
edge derived  from  their  sires,  and  old  documents 
worth  securing  from  the  careless  hands  which  had  de- 
stroyed so  many. 

^Ir  Savage  accordingly,  well  provided  with  letters, 
took  passage  the  Gtli  of  October  1877  on  board  the 
steamer  SciKxtor,  which  carried  him  to  Santa  ^Eonica, 
\\  hence  he  proceeded  to  Los  Angeles,  and  was  soon 
at  work  upon  the  dictation  of  Pio  Pico,  formerly 
governor  of  California,  carrying  on  at  the  same  time 
the  examination  and  copying  of  the  papers  of  Ignacio 
( 'oronel  and  Manuel  Roquena.  To  these  experiences 
original  documents  were  added,  some  from  the  estate 
of  Andres  Pico;  from  J.  J.Warner  the  manuscript 
volume  of  his  Recollections  was  obtained.  l\ipcrs 
and  reminiscences  were  further  obtained  from  I*edro 
(  arrillo  and  Jos(5  Lugo.  To  Antonio  F.  Coronel  Mr 
Savage  expressed  the  highest  obligations;  also  to 
^Jovernor  Downey  and  Judge  Sepulvcda.  l>lsho[) 
Mora,  under  instructions  from  Bishop  Amat,  loane^l 
Mr  Savage  twelve  manuscript  books,  permitted  him 
liee  access  to  the  episcopal  archives,  and   furnished 


! 


52G 


HISTORIC  RESEARCHES  IN  THE  SOUTH. 


■  ^ 


I!     'i 


liim  a  letter  authorizing  all  priests  within  the  diocese 
in  cliarge  of  mission  records  to  allow  him  to  make 
sucli  extracts  from  them  as  he  might  desire. 

To  the  mission  of  San  Gabriel  !Mr  Savage  pro- 
ceeded in  the  latter  part  of  November,  and  foiiiid 
Fatlier  Bot  most  oblicjino:.  Hereabout  dictations  were 
obtained  from  Benjamin  D.Wilson,  Victoriano  Vega, 
and  Amalia  Perez,  stewardess  of  the  mission,  and  well 
informed  upon  mission  life,  habits  of  the  padres,  and 
manners  and  customs  of  the  Californians, 

Spadra  next,  and  a  dictation  from  old  Pablo  Vejar, 
famous  in  military  mutinies,  for  which  ho  had  b.eii 
sent  a  prisoner  to  Mexico.  Escaping  thence,  he  re- 
turned, fought  the  Americans  at  San  Pascual,  an  1 
was  taken  prisoner;  once  rich,  ho  was  now  ashanud 
to  ask  ]\Ir  Savage  into  his  hovel.  Then  Pomona,  to 
Bce  the  Englishman  Michael  White,  who  came  to  the 
coast  in  1817,  and  settled  in  Alta  California  in  IH-^. 
Thence  Mr  Savage  returned  to  San  Gabriel.  At  Los 
Nietos  was  seen  Jose  Mari'a  Romero,  a  Calirorniaii 
of  ninety;  at  San  Juan  Capistrano  the  mission  boo!;;; 
then  followed  a  dictation  from  John  Foster  of  Santa 
Margarita  rancho,  an  examination  of  the  mission 
books  at  San  Luis  Rey,  and  more  dictations  IVoin 
Juan  Avila  and  Michael  Kraszowski,  and  Christmas 
had  come.  At  San  ])iego,  Juana  Osuna  and  Jose 
!Maria  ]Cstudillo  furnished  information.  Fortunately 
the  widow  of  ]Moreno,  government  secretary  uuil  i' 
Pico,  wa.>  at  San  DiejTo,  where  she  had  brouo'ht  IVom 
lower  California  a  truidc  filled  with  the  papers  of 
her  late  Imsband,  who  used  to  endorse  even  onliiiaiy 
letters  "A  mi  archivo,  apuntes  para  la  historia."  It 
seems  hero  was  another  dreaming  of  history-writiii;'. 
"The  papers  are  indeed  interesting  in  an  hlstoiiiil 
point  of  view,"  says  ^Ir  Savage,  who  so  ingratiate  il 


lie 


himself  with  the  widow  as  to  gain  access  to 
trunk;  "Moreno  had  not  oidy  been  secretary  in  npiH  r 
California,  l>ut  had  taken  part  in  the  war  against  the 
United    States  in  184G,  and   for  several  years  was 


MR  CHAUXCEY  HAYES. 


527 


tho  f)cfe  jwlitlco  of  the  region  called  the  northern 
fVoDticr  of  Lower  California."  Senora  Moreno  re- 
1  urncd  to  her  rancho  at  Guadalupe,  leaving  her  docu- 
ments in  the  possession  of  Mr  Savage. 

Narclso  Botcllo  was  a  man  of  character,  and  though 
now  poor,  liad  held  many  important  positions,  as  an 
iictive  [tarticipant  in  public  affairs  from  1833  to  1847. 
He  was  induced  to  wait  on  Mr  Savage  at  nortli  San 
Diego  find  give  his  experiences,  which  were  rich  in 
liistorical  events,  manners  and  customs,  education, 
and  judicial  processes. 

Throughout  tho  entire  expedition  Mr  Savage  was 
untiring  in  his  efforts,  which  were  not  always  attended 
liy  encouraging  success.  But  fortune  smiled  on  him 
(luring  this  January  of  1878,  tliough  the  face  of  tlic 
sun  was  clouded  and  the  roads  in  bad  condition  from 
the  rains.  At  the  time  of  his  death  Judge  Hayes 
was  (leep  in  two  large  collections  of  documents  whicli 
h(>  had  shortly  before  obtained,  one  from  ^Ir  Alexander, 
son-in-law  of  Ilequena,  and  the  other  from  Coronel, 
tlie  former  containinuf  the  valuable  diary  of  Mr  ^lell us. 
All  then  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  son,  ^Ir  CMiauncey 
Hayes,  who  resided  at  his  ranclio,  five  miles  from  San 
liuis  Key.  From  him  Mr  Savage,  now  on  his  home- 
ward way,  obtained  "two  cases  pretty  well  crammed 
wilii  manuscripts  and  newspaper  slips,  every  one  of 
which  contained  some  informatiiMi  on  the  Californias 
and  on  other  parts  of  the  Pacific  coast.  They  were 
taken  to  San  Luis  Hey  under  a  heavy  rain,  which, 
however,  did  no  damage.  After  some  carpentering,  to 
render  the  cases  secure,  I  arrani^ed  for  their  C(^nvev- 
ance  to  San  Diego,  thence  to  be  shipjied  to  San  Fran- 
•  i^co."  Mr  Savage  does  not  form't  tl»e  kindness  of 
.liidge  Egan,  Doctor  Crane,  Pablo  Pryor,  Juan  Avila, 
lather  ^tut,  and  others. 

I5aek  to  l^os  Angeles,  and  again  en  route,  armed 
with  a  letter  from  tlie  best  of  our  southern  friends, 
•Tmlge  Sepi'ilveda,  to  Ignacio  del  Valle.  A  warm  wel- 
toiiie,  a  dictation,  and  all  the  documents  the  [daco 


528 


HISTORIC  RESEARCHES  IX  THU  SOUTH. 


i 


il 


,f 


afforded,  followed  a  hard  ride  to  the  famous  ranelio  of 
Camulos.  leather  Farrolly,  the  parish  priest  at  San 
Buenaventura,  was  a  jolly  good  fellow,  as  well  as  a 
kind-hearted  gentleman.  ]>esides  extracts  from  the 
mission  books  here  obtained,  were  the  reminiscences 
of  Jose  Arnaz,  Ramon  A^aldcs,  and  others. 

The  1st  of  March,  at  Santa  Barbara,  Mr  Sava-^c 
joined  j\rr  Murray,  then  engaged  on  the  Do  la  Gmria 
papers,  kindly  loaned  him  by  Mr  Dibblee,  adminis- 
trator of  the  estate.  From  early  morning  until  far 
into  the  night,  Sundays  and  other  days,  ^Ir  Savagj 
was  soon  engaged  on  the  mission  books,  public  an  I 
private  documents,  and  in  taking  dictations  from  !^^^s 
Ord,  one  of  the  Do  la  Guerra  daughters,  Agustiu 
Janssens,  Apolinaria  Lorenzana,  and  liafael  Gonzalez. 
Small  but  very  valuable  collections  of  papers  WiW 
received  from  Concepcion  Pico,  sister  of  Govj^rnor 
Pico,  and  Dolores  Domingucz,  the  two  ladies  bein^,^ 
the  widows  of  Domingo  and  Jose  Carrillo.  ]\Iany 
family  archives  liad  here  by  foolish  heirs  been  wilfully 
b;^  'ned  or  used  for  making  cigarettes.  "The  results 
in  Santa  Barbara,"  Mr  Savage  writes,  "from  ^larch 
2d  to  April  4th  were  about  four  hundred  pages  of 
dictations,  over  two  thousand  documents,  and  two 
hundred  pages  of  manuscript  from  the  mission  books. 
]Much  time  was  spent  in  vain  search  for  papers  nut 
existing."  Subsequently  ^Mr  Murray  obtained  dicta- 
tions from  the  American  pioneers  of  that  locality, 
notably  from  the  old  trapper  Nidever,  who  came 
overland  to  California  in   1832. 

The  usually  thorough  researches  of  ISIr  Savage 
met  with  some  disappointment  at  San  Luis  Obisjio, 
though,  through  the  courteousness  of  Father  Rousst  1, 
the  widow  Bonilla, Charles  Dana, Maria  Inocente  Pice, 
widow  of  Miguel  Avila,  and  Josd  de  Jesus  Pico,  t!ie 
results  were  important.  These  all  did  much.  Inoc(Mi(e 
Garcia  also  gave  one  hundred  and  ten  pages,  aiul 
Canuto  Boronda  and  Ignacio  Ezquer  valuable  <i'ii- 
tiibutions.     The    very    interesting   diary  of  Waltei* 


FURTHER  EFFORTS  BY  MR  SAVAGE. 


529 


^Murray  was  kindly  loaned  by  his  widow.  On  a  fear- 
ful stormy  niglit,  at  the  risk  of  his  life,  driven  to  it 
by  circumstances,  Mr  Savage,  accompanied  by  Josd 
(Ic  Jesus  Pico,  visited  the  rancho  of  Senora  de  Avila 
in  the  interests  of  history,  and  there  received  every 
kindness. 

T  have  not  the  space  in  this  chapter  to  follow 
Ml-  Savage  further.  Many  journeys  he  made  for 
the  library,  and  encountered  many  experiences;  and 
gnat  were  the  benefits  to  history,  to  California,  arising 
therefrom.  Though  less  ostentatious  than  some,  his 
abilities  were  not  surpassed  by  any.  In  the  written 
nairative  given  me  of  his  several  adventures,  which 
is  full  of  interesting  incidents  and  important  histori- 
cal explanations,  the  keenest  disappointment  is  man- 
ifested over  failures;  nevertheless  his  success  was 
gratifying,  and  can  never  be  repeated.  During  the  re- 
moJnder  of  this  expedition,  which  lasted  eight  months, 
ending  at  San  Francisco  early  in  June,  Mr  Savage 
secured  to  the  library,  the  collections  of  Cdrlos  Olvera 
of  (yhualar,  and  Rafael  Pinto  of  Watsonville,  "con- 
taining so  much  valuable  matter,"  Mr  Savage  says, 
"that  the  history  of  California  would  not  have  been 
complete  without  them."  Pinto  was  collector  of  the 
l>ort  at  San  Francisco  at  the  time  of  the  American 
occupation;  he  also  gave  his  reminiscences. 

^Ir  Savage  did  not  cease  his  present  efforts  until 
tlie  missions  of  San  Rafael,  San  Josd,  and  San  Fran- 
cisco were  searched,  and  material  extracted  from  the 
state  library  at  Sacramento.  The  old  archives  at 
tlie  offices  of  the  secretary  of  state,  and  county  clerk, 
at  Sacramento,  were  likewise  examined,  and  notes 
taken  from  the  several  court  records. 


Lit.  Im.   M 


CHAPTER  XXII. 


HISTORIC  EXPLORATIONS  NORTHWARD. 


I 


It  is  undoiiiablo  that  the  exercise  of  a  creative  power,  that  a  free  crcativo 
activitj',  is  the  liijihcst  function  of  man;  it  is  provoii  to  bo  so  by  man's 
liudiug  ill  it  hU  true  happiness.  Malthew  Arnold. 

In  company  with  jMrs  Bancroft,  on  the  30tli  of 
April  1878  I  sailed  in  ilic  steamer  Citi/  of  Panuuxi, 
Captain  William  Seabury,  for  A^ancouver  Island,  with 
the  view  of  returning  by  land.  After  five  days  and 
nights  t)f  tempestuous  builetings,  though  without 
sj)ecial  discomlbrt,  we  safely  landed  at  Escjuiuialt,  and 
«h'ovo  over  to  Victoria,  three  miles  distant.  We  found  a 
good  hotel,  the  Driard  house,  and  a  gentlemanly  host, 
Jiouis  Redon.  The  day  was  Sunday,  and  thougli  oM 
ocean  yet  billowed  through  our  brain  and  lifted  our 
feet  at  every  step — or,  perhaps,  bi'cause  we  were  t  lius 
dogged  by  Neptune  even  after  treading  firm  land — 
we  decided  to  attend  church. 

On  setting  out  from  the  hotel  we  met  Mr  Ed^ar 
!Mai'vin,  who  accompanied  us  to  Christ  church,  where 
the  bishop  presided  over  the  cathedral  service.  Next 
day  j\Ir  ^larvin  introduced  me  to  several  persons 
whom  I  wished  to  see;  and  throughout  our  entire 
stay  in  Victoria  ho  was  unceasing  in  his  kindness 
]Mr  T.  N.  Ilibben,  an  old  and  esteemed  friend,  to- 
gether with  his  highly  intelligent  wii'e,  were  caiiy 
and  fi-equent  in  their  attentions.  Then  there  Vviic 
Sir  Matthew  13.  Bogbic,  Dr  Ash,  the  honoralilo 
A.  C.  Elliott,  Lady  JJouglas,  Mr  and  ]Mrs  Harris, 
Governor  and  !Mrs  Richards,  and  a  host  of  others. 
Though  he  did   not  aft'ect  literature,  Sir   ]\Iatthj\v 

(HO) 


BRITISH  COLUMBIA. 


681 


was  thoroughly  a  good  fellow,  and  no  one  in  British 
(Columbia  exercised  a  more  beneficial  or  a  greater  po- 
litical and  social  iniluence;  in  fact,  I  may  as  well  say 
at  ilio  outset  that  nowhere  have  I  ever  encountered 
kinder  aj)preciation  or  more  cordial  and  continued 
iiospitality  tlurn  here.  Invitations  so  poured  in  upon 
us  as  seriously  to  interfere  with  my  labors,  and  greatly 
to  piolong  our  stay.  I  found  it  impossible  to  declino 
])roirers  of  good-will  so  heartily  made;  and  no  less 
interest  was  manifested  in  furthering  the  object  which 
liad  taken  me  there  than  in  hospitable  entertainment. 

To  examine  public  archives  and  private  j^apers,  to 
extract  such  portions  as  were  useful  in  my  work,  to 
record  and  carry  back  with  me  the  experiences  of 
those  who  had  taken  an  active  part  in  the  discovery 
and  occupation  of  the  country — these,  together  with 
a  desire  to  become  historically  inspired  with  the  spirit 
111*  sottloment  throughout  the  great  north-west,  con- 
stituted the  ])Urdcn  of  my  mission. 

I'ingnging  two  assistants  on  Monday,  the  next  day, 
Tui'sday,  J  sat  down  to  work  in  earnest.  One  of  these 
assistants,  Mr  Thomas  II.  Long,  I  found  a  valuable 
man.  The  other  I  discharged  I't  the  end  of  a  week. 
Aiterward  I  tried  two  more,  both  of  whom  failed. 
Tlie  province  was  in  the  agonies  of  a  general  election, 
lu'cc'Hsitated  by  the  dissolution  of  the  assembly  by 
the  governor,  on  the  ground  that  the  Elliott  govern- 
ment, as  it  was  called,  was  not  sufficiently  stiong  to 
•  any  out  its  measures.  Untbrtunately  the  old  Hud- 
son's l)ay  Company  men,  whom  of  all  others  I  wished 
historieall}'  to  ca[)turo,  were  many  of  them  })oliti- 
eiaiis.  Composed  to  a  great  extent  of  tough,  shiewd, 
clear-headed  Scotchmen,  the  fur  company's  ancient 
servants  were  now  the  wealthy  aristocrats  of  the 
province;  and  although  they  loved  their  country  well, 
and  were  glad  to  give  me  every  item  respecting  llieir 
early  adventures,  they  loved  office  also,  and  woukl  by 
no  means  neglect  self-interest.  But  I  was  persistent. 
1  was  determined  never  to  leave  the  province  until 


I  111 


532 


HISTORIC  EXPLORATIONS  NORTHWARD. 


w 

I* 

I 

II  t' 


my  cravings  for  information  should  be  satisfied,  and  to 
obtain  the  necessary  information  at  as  early  a  day  as 
possible. 

The  governor  was  absent  fishing,  and  would  not  re- 
turn for  a  week.  Mr  Elliott,  the  provincial  secretary, 
was  affable,  but  exceedingly  occupied  in  the  endeavor 
to  rise  again  upon  his  political  legs.  He  quickly  guM; 
me  all  printed  government  matter,  but  when  it  caiin' 
to  an  examination  of  the  archives  he  manifested  no 
particular  haste.  His  deputy,  Mr  Thomas  Elwyn. 
offered  access  to  everything  in  his  office,  but  assured 
me  that  it  contained  nothing,  since  all  the  material 
which  could  in  any  wise  throw  light  on  history  was 
in  the  house  of  the  governor.  None  of  the  archives 
had  been  removed  to  Ottawa  on  confederating  with 
Canada,  as  I  had  been  informed. 

When  the  governor,  Mr  Richards,  as  the  people  of 
this  province  called  him,  returned,  I  immediatLly 
waited  upon  hin  md  made  known  my  wishes.  II i; 
was  a  plain,  farmer-like  man,  with  deep,  bright,  clear 
eyes  and  large  brain,  but  by  no  means  strikingly  intd- 
lectual  in  appearance,  tliougli  as  much  so,  purhajis. 
as  many  of  our  own  officials.  He  was  a  conii)ara- 
tive  stranger,  he  said,  sent  there  from  Canada;  kiuw 
little  resxardinij:  the  documents  in  the  governor's  olfict, 
and  proposed  that  a  minute-in-council  be  passed  hy 
the  provincial  government  in  order  to  invest  liiiii 
with  the  requisite  authority  to  open  to  me  the  gov- 
ernment archives.  Addressinir  a  letter  to  ^Ir  Elliott 
askmg  the  passage  of  such  a  measure,  he  put  me  "W 
once  more. 

Now  Mr  Elliott  was  prime  minister,  and  his  asso- 
ciates being  absent  he  was  the  government,  and  liatl 
only  to  write  out  and  enter  the  order  to  make  it  valid. 
I  knew  very  well,  and  so  did  they,  first,  that  tliu 
governor  required  no  such  order,  and  secondly,  that 
Mr  Elliott  could  write  it  as  easily  as  talk  about  it. 

After  a  day  or  two  lost  by  these  evasions,  I  deter- 
mined to  bring  the  matter  to  a  crisis.    These  north- 


VERY  SMALL  (;REAT  MKN. 


688 


western  magnates  must  be  awakened  to  a  sense  of 
duty ;  they  must  be  induced  to  give  me  immediate 
iucess  to  the  government  archives  or  refuse,  and  the 
latter  course  I  not  beheve  they  would  adopt.  Meet- 
iii(r  Mr  Elliott  on  the  street  shortly  after,  I  said  to 
liiiii: 

'The  benighted  republics  of  Central  America  not 
only  throw  open  their  records  to  the  examination  of 
the  historian,  but  appoint  a  commissioner  to  gather 
and  abstract  material.  It  can  hardly  be  possible  that 
any  Englisli-speaking  government  should  throw  ob- 
.stiuetion  in  the  way  of  laudable  historical  effort." 

The  minister's  apologies  were  ample,  and  the  order 
came  forth  directly,  liut  the  order  did  not  suit  the 
governor,  who  returned  it  and  required  in  its  place 
another,  differently  worded;  and  this  at  lust  given 
him  he  required  that  his  secretary,  the  honorable 
-Mr  Boyle,  a  most  atlable,  but  soniewhat  needy  and 
wholly  inexperienced,  young  man,  should  alone  have 
the  making  of  tlie  copies  and  abstracts,  always,  of 
cuiu.se,  at  my  expense. 

^leanwhilo  every  spare  moment  was  occupied  in 
bringing  forward  the  ancients  of  this  region,  and  in 
obtaining  information  from  any  and  all  sources.  There 
were  many  good  writers,  many  who  had  written  essays, 
and  even  books.  To  instance :  Mr  G.  M.  Sproat,  who 
drew  up  for  me  a  skeleton  of  British  Columbia  history, 
according  to  his  conception  of  it;  Mr  J.  D.  Pember- 
ton,  formerly  private  secretary  of  Sir  James  Douglas, 
and  author  of  a  work  on  British  Columbia,  who  not 
only  brought  me  a  large  package  of  printed  material, 
I  lut  gave  me  some  most  valuable  information  in  writing, 
and  used  his  influence  with  Doctor  Helmcken,  the 
eccentric  son-in-law  of  Sir  James,  and  executor  of  the 
Douglas  estate,  to  obtain  for  me  the  private  books 
and  papers  in  the  possession  of  the  family;  Dr  John 
Asli  likewise  wrote  for  me  and  gave  me  material, 
as  did  Thomas  Elwyn,  deputy  provincial  secretary, 
Arthur  Wellesley  Vowel,  and  Mr  Elliott;  from  P. 


li 


i 


i| 


034 


HISTORIC  EXPI/)RATIONS  NORTHWARD, 


N.  Compton,  Michael  Mnir,  Alexander  Allen,  James 
Deans,  and  others,  I  obtained  dictations.  But  most 
valuable  of  all  were  the  reminiscences,  amounting  in 
some  instances  to  manuscript  volumes,  and  consti- 
tuting histories  more  or  less  complete,  of  New  Cah  - 
donia  and  the  great  north-west,  the  recollections  of 
those  who  had  spent  their  lives  within  this  territory, 
who  had  occupied  important  positions  of  honor  and 
trust,  and  were  immediately  identified  not  only  with 
the  occupation  and  seitlement  of  the  country  but 
with  its  subsequent  progress.  Among  these  were  A. 
C.  Anderson,  W.  F.  Tolmie,  Roderick  Finlayson, 
Archibald  McKinlay,  and  others,  men  of  mind,  ahlc 
writers  some  of  them,  and  upon  whose  shouldeis, 
after  the  records  of  Sir  James  Douglas,  the  diaries 
of  chief  factors,  and  the  government  and  Hudson  s 
Bay  Company's  archives,  must  rest  the  history  ot' 
British  (yolumbia. 

James  M.  Douglas,  son  of  Sir  James,  whose  mni- 
riage  with  the  daughter  of  Mr  Elliott  we  had  tlu' 
pleasure  of  attending,  granted  me  free  and  wiHinLT 
access  to  all  the  family  books  and  papers.  "Ah!' 
said  everybody,  "you  should  have  come  before  8ii' 
James  died.  He  would  have  rendered  you  assistant! 
in  value  beyond  computation."  So  it  is  too  often 
with  these  old  men;  their  experiences  and  the  bent  tit 
thereof  to  posterity  are  prized  after  they  are  beyond 
reach. 

Lady  Douglas  was  yet  alive,  and,  though  a  luilf 
breed,  was  quite  the  lady.  Her  (laughters  were  charm 
ing ;  indeed,  it  were  next  to  impossible  for  the  wife  and 
daughters  of  Sir  James  Douglas  to  be  other  than  ladies. 
Scarcely  so  much  could  truthfully  be  said  of  the  sons 
of  some  other  fur  magnates,  who  as  a  rule  were  both 
idiotic  and  intemperate.  Young  Douglas,  tliou;ih 
kind  and  polite  in  the  extreme,  did  not  impress  nn 
as  possessing  extraordinary  intelligence  or  energy. 
So  in  the  family  of  Chief  Factor  Worth:  the  Indium 
wife,  in  body  and  mind,  was  strong  and  elastic  as  st('<  I, 


QUITE  A  MIXED  SOCIEIT. 


636 


?ind  while  the  (lau<jliters  were  virtuouB  and  amiable, 
the  sons  were  loss  adMiiniblr. 

The  honorable  Amor  de  Cosmos,  7ic  Smith,  the  his- 
toric genius  of  the  place,  was  absent  attending  the 
legislature  in  Canada.  lie  was  one  of  two  brothers 
who  conducted  the  Sfrnidard  news[)aj)er,  and  dabbled 
iti  politics  and  aspired  to  history-writing.  One  of  these 
brothers  was  known  as  plain  Smith;  the  other  had 
had  his  name  chanLred  by  the  lejjislature  of  California. 
It  was  some  time  before  I  could  realize  that  the  man 
1 1ius  playing  a  practical  joke  on  his  own  name  was  not 
a  builbon. 

^Ir  William  Charles,  at  this  time  director  of  the 
Hudson's  Bay  Company's  affairs  at  Victoria,  gave  nie 
iiiUL-h  information,  and  among  other  things  a  journal 
(if  the  founders  of  Fort  Langloy  while  journeying 
from  Fort  Vancouver  and  establishing  a  new  fort  on 
Fraser  ri\('r.  The  record  covered  a  period  of  tlir(;e 
years,  from  1827  to  1820.  Mr  Charles  also  sent  to 
!"'ort  Simpson  for  the  records  of  that  important  post, 
and  forwarded  them  to  me  after  my  return  to  Sun 
Francisco. 

From  George  Hills,  bishop  of  Columbia,  I  obtained 
copies  of  missionary  reports  giving  n)uch  new  knowl- 
edge of  various  parts.  Mr  Stanhope  Far  well  of  the 
\  ictoria  land  ofHce  gave  me  a  flue  collection  of  maps 
and  charts  of  that  \  ieiiiity.  Through  the  courtesy 
of"  John  liobson,  paymaster  of  the  Canadian  I^icific 
railway  survey,  Vietoiia.  and  AVilliam  Buckingham 
of  the  office  of  the  minister  o{  publie  works,  Ottawa, 
1he  printed  re[)orts  of  the  survey  were  sent  me  fiom 
Canada.  F.  J.  Iloseoe  in  like  manner  furnished  nm 
'.villi  the  Canadian  blue-books,  or  ])rinted  public  docu- 
ments of  British  Ameriea.  These,  together  with  the 
Mue-books  found  in  the  public  ofiices  at  Victoria, 
and  other  official  and  general  publications,  boxed  and 
hhippcd  to  San  Francisco  from  that  port,  formed  ex- 
tensive and  important  additions  to  my  library, 

Mrs  Bancroft  begged  permission  to  assist,  and  took 


636 


mSTORIC  EXPLORATIONS  NORTHWARD. 


from  one  person,  a  miasionary,  the  Rev.  Mr  Good, 
one  hundred  and  twenty  foolscap  pages  descriptive  ui' 
the  people  and  country  round  the  upper  Fruser.  In 
Mr  Anderson's  narrative,  which  was  very  fine,  sIkj 
took  special  interest,  and  during  our  stay  ni  Vietoil.i 
she  accomplished  more  than  any  one  engaged  in  tlic 
W(  rk.  Writing  in  her  journal  of  Mr  Good  she  says; 
"His  descriptions  of  scenery  and  wild  life  aru  re 
markable  for  vividness  and  beauty  of  exj)ression.  His 
graphic  pictures  so  fascinated  me  that  I  felt  nu  weari- 
ness, and  was  almost  unconscious  of  effort." 

It  was  like  penetrating  regions  beyond  the  world 
for  descriptions  of  scenes  acted  on  the  other  aldr. 
of  reality,  this  raking  up  the  white-haired  reujiiauts  of 
the  once  powerful  but  now  almost  extinct  oigaiiizu- 
tion.  There  was  old  John  Tod,  tall,  gaunt,  witli  ;i 
mouth  like  the  new  moon,  which  took  kiuiUy  to  gin 
and  soda,  though  Tod  was  not  intemperate.  IL; 
called  himself  eighty-four,  and  was  eleai-heaJed  and 
sprightly  at  that,  though  his  friends  insisted  he  was 
nearer  ninety-four.  The  old  fur-factor  lived  about 
four  miles  from  the  city,  and  regularly  everyday,  in  a 
flaring  cap  with  huge  ears,  and  driving  a  bony  l.)ay 
hitched  to  a  single,  high-seated,  rattling,  spring  wagon, 
he  made  his  appearance  at  our  hotel,  and  said  his  .say. 
While  speaking  he  must  not  be  questioned;  he  must 
not  be  interrupted.  Sitting  in  an  arm-chair,  leaning 
on  his  cane,  or  walking  up  and  down  the  room,  liis 
deep-set  eyes  blazing  uith  the  renewed  fire  of  old- 
time  excitements,  his  thin  hair  standing  in  electiic 
attention,  he  i-ccitcd  with  rapidity  midst  furious  ges- 
ticulations story  after  story,  one  scene  calling  u|» 
another,  until  his  present  was  wet  with  the  sweat  of 
the  past. 

Archibald  Mclvinlay  was  another,  a  really  brave  and 
estimable  character,  and  a  man  who  had  filled  wiili 
honor  to  himself  and  profit  to  the  Hudson's  Bay  Com- 
pany many  responsible  positions,  but,  while  young'  r 
than  Mr  Tod,  he  was  not  possessed  of  so  unclouded  i 


ties.' 


TOD,  MoKINLAY,  TOLMIE,  FINLAYSON. 


537 


memory  or  so  facile  a  tongue.  Tlio  wlusk«y  lie  drank 
was  stronger  than  Mr  Tod's  gin.  lie  knew  enough, 
hut  could  not  tell  it.  "  If  it's  statisticals  ye  want 
I'll  give  'em  to  ye,"  he  would  hring  out  every  fjw 
minutes,  **  but  I'll  have  nothing  to  do  with  personali- 
tit's."  When  I  hinted  to  him  that  history  was  made 
l>y  persons  and  not  by  statistics,  he  rctortod:  "Well, 
I'll  write  something  for  ye."  lie  had  much  to  say 
of  I*eter  Skeen  Ogden,  whose  half-breed  daughter  ho 
hud  nuuricd.  The  first  evening  after  our  arrival  he 
1  nought  his  wife  to  see  us,  and  seemed  very  proud 
•  •1'  her.  lie  was  really  anxious  to  connnunicate  his 
experiences,  coming  day  after  day  to  do  so,  but  failing 
lV<»in  sheer  lack  of  tongue,  lie  onee  interrupted 
Mr  Tod,  disputing  some  date,  and  tl»e  old  gentleman 
never  forgave  him.  Never  after  that,  while  ^MeKinlay 
was  in  the  room,  would  ^Ir  Tod  opiiu  his  mouth, 
uxt-ept  to  admit  the  gin  and  soda. 

Doctor  W.  F.  Tolmie,  who  had  been  manager  of 
tli(.'  Puget  Sound  agiicultural  com|)any,  and  subse- 
<|ti('ntly  chief  factor  at  Victoria,  w'as  of  medium  height, 
liiil  so  stoutly  built  as  to  seem  short,  with  a  large 
bald  head,  broad  face  and  features,  florid  complexion, 
ail!',  small  blue  eyes,  which,  through  their  corners 
and  apparently  without  seeing  anything,  took  in  all 
tlie  world.  He  hatl  been  well  educated  in  Europe, 
was  clover,  cunning,  and  withal  exceedingly  Scotch. 
Tolmie  knew  much,  and  could  tell  it;  indeed,  he  did 
tell  nuich,  but  only  what  he  pleased.  Nevertheless  I 
I'ound  him  one  of  my  most  profitable  teachers  in  the 
doings  of  the  past;  and  when  I  left  Victoria  he  in- 
1  rusted  me  with  his  journal  kept  while  descending 
the  Columbia  river  in  18;}:5  and  for  four  years  there- 
alUT,  which  he  prized  very  highly. 

lloderick  Finlayson,  mayor  of  Victoria,  and  founder 
of  the  fort  there,  was  a  magnificent  specimen  of  the 
old-school  Scotch  gentleman.  Upon  a  fine  figure  was 
Well  set  a  fine  head,  slightly  bald,  with  grayish-white 
hair  curled  in  tight,  short  ringlets  round  and  behind 


538 


HISTORIC  EXPLORATIONS  NORTHWARD. 


ii! 


't     \ 


a  most  pleasing,  benignant  face.  His  beard  was  short 
and  thick,  in  color  brown  and  gray,  well  mixed.  Ho 
tasted  temperately  of  the  champagne  I  placed  before 
him,  while  Tolmie,  who  was  totally  abstinent  for  ex- 
ample's sake  in  the  presence  of  his  boys,  prosoribcfl 
himself  liberal  doses  of  brandy.  The  Rev.  Mr  Good, 
I  think,  enjoyed  the  brandy  and  cigars  which  were 
freely  placed  at  his  command  fully  as  much  as  onn- 
struiuGf  elegant  sentences.  Preferring  to  write  rather 
than  to  dictate,  Mr  Finlayson  gave  me  from  his  own 
pen  in  graphic  detail  many  of  the  most  stirring  iiui- 
dents  in  the  history  of  British  Columbia. 

But  more  than  to  any  other  in  Victoria,  I  feel  mv- 
self  indebted  to  ISIr  A.  C  Anderson,  a  man  not  only 
of  fine  education,  but  of  marked  literary  ability.  Of 
poetic  temperament,  chivalrous  in  thought  as  well  as 
in  carriage,  of  acute  observation  and  retentive  memory, 
he  proved  to  be  the  chief  and  standard  authority  (Mi 
all  matters  relating  to  the  country.  He  had  published 
several  works  of  value  and  interest,  and  was  uni- 
versally regarded  as  the  most  valuable  living  witness 
of  the  past.  Tall,  symmetrica],  and  very  erect,  wifli  a 
long  narrow  face,  ample  forehead,  well  brushed  wliitc 
liair,  side  whiskers,  and  keen,  light-blue  eyes,  lie 
looked  the  scholar  he  was.  Scare* 'Iv allowing  hinisi'lt' 
an  interruption,  he  devoted  nearly  two  weeks  to  n'v 
work  with  such  warm  cllecr^ulne^;s  and  genllcnKuily 
courtesy  as  to  win  our  hearts.  Besides  this,  lie  Ijroug! it 
me  nmch  valuable  material  in  the  form  of  recoid- 
books  and  letters.  He  took  luncheon  with  us  eveiy 
day,  smoked  incessantly,  and  drank  brandy  and  soda 
temperately. 

Ilehncken  was  a  queer  one;  small  in  stature,  Imt 
compactly  built,  with  short  black  hair  and  beaid, 
thickly  sprinkled  with  gray,  covering  a  round  hard 
head,  with  clear  eyes  of  meaningless,  measni-el'-^s 
dei)th,  nose  rose  red,  and  the  stump  of  a  cigar  always 
stuck  between  tobacco-stained  teeth — this  ior  a  luvid 
and  body  placed  on  underpinning  seemingly  insecun  . 


WASHINGTON. 


&39 


Ro  as  to  give  one  the  impression  of  a  rolling,  uncertain 
walk  as  well  as  manner,  and  added  to  most  peculiar 
speech  larded  with  wise  saws  and  loud  laughter,  could 
be  likened  only  to  a  pliilosoplier  attenij)tlng  to  ape  tlio 
fool.  One  day  he  came  rushing  into  our  parlor  at  the 
hotel  in  a  state  of  great  excitement,  so  much  so  that 
he  forgot  to  remove  either  his  hat  or  clijar  stub,  <>'ivin'j: 
Mr3  Bancroft  the  impression  that  he  was  deriJedly 
drum;,  and  demanded  to  be  shown  the  papers  delivered 
me  by  Lady  Douglas  and  ^Irs  Ilarri-.  "  They  liad 
no  business  to  let  them  ont  of  their  li.iudsl"  he  ex- 
claimed. "Where  are  they?"  I  sliowed  them  to  him, 
explained  their  value  and  application  to  history,  and  as- 
sured liim  thev  would  be  s]>eedily  copied  and  returned. 
Smiles  then  slowlv  wmthed  the  i-ed  face;  the  eyes 
(lanced,  tjie  hat  cameotf,  and  h)ud  laughter  attended 
the  little  man's  abrupt  disappearance. 

I  could  write  a  volume  on  what  I  saw  and  di,l 
(hu'ing  tliis  visit  of  n])out  a  montli  at  Victoria,  but  I 
iiuist  hasten  forward.  After  a  gentlumen's  dinner  at 
Sir  Matt  hew's ;  a  grand  entertainment  at  ^\v  ^farviu's ; 
s(>veral  visits  from  and  to  Lady  Douglas,  Mrs  Harris, 
Doctor  and  ^Trs  Ash,  and  many  otlier  chai-ming  calls 
and  parties;  and  a  hundred  [)romiseM,  not  one  in 
1  'H  of  wliich  were  k(>{)t;  leaving  ^Ir  Long  to  fmisli 
cMpying  the  Douglas  [  aj>ers,  the  Fraser  papers,  the 
Work  journals,  am.!  tii.3  manuscripts  fui'iiished  by 
Anderson,  Finlavson,  Tod,  Spence,^'^owel,  and  otliers; 
after  a  vovage  to  Nev»' Westminster,  and  aftei-  lending 
oar  assistance  in  celebrating  the  (Queen's  birtliday,  i>u 
the  l.'ist  day  of  ]\Iay  we  crossed  to  Port  Townseiid, 
ha\;ng  completed  one  of  th(^  liardest  montlisof  recrea- 
tion 1  ever  experienee(l.  I'.ut  long  before  tliis  I  liad 
I'cached  the  conclu.iion  that  while  this  work  lasted 
there  was  no  rest  for  me. 

At  every  move  a  new  held  opened.  At  Port  Town- 
^f'm\,  wliich  in  its  literary  piM'speetive  j^resented  an 
iisju^ct  so  forbidding  that  I  threatened  to  pass  it  by 


1  ' 


■■:'A 


■^ 


ri 

H 


la 


ii 


f  ' 


MO 


HISTORIC  EXPLORATIONS  NORTHWARD. 


without  stopping,  I  was  favored  with  the  most  for- 
tunate results.  Judge  James  G.  Swan,  ethnologist, 
artist,  author  of  lliree  Years  at  Shoalivater  Bay,  and 
divers  Smithsonian  monographs  and  newspaper  ar- 
ticles, was  there  ready  to  render  me  every  assistance, 
which  he  did  by  transferring  to  me  his  collection,  the 
result  of  thirty  years'  labor  in  that  direction,  and  sup- 
})k!menting  liis  t'orincr  writing  by  other  and  unwritten 
oxperieiices.  Poor  fellow!  Tlie  demon  Drink  had 
long  held  him  in  his  terriole  toils,  and  when  told  that 
T  was  in  town  he  swore  ho  would  first  get  sober  be- 
fore sotjing  me.  How  many  thousands  of  our  pioneer 
adventurers  liave  been  liastened  headlong  to  perdi 
tioM  ])y  the  ]iellis]i  coniforterl  jNTajor  J.  J.  II.  Van 
Bokkclcn  was  ther(>,  and  after  giving  me  his  dictation 
prcsentod  to  ^Irs  Uaiicroii  a  valuable  collection  of 
Indian  lelics,  wliich  lie  had  boon  waiting  twentj^ years, 
as  he  said,  io  }tl;ic-c  in  tin,-  liands  of  some  one  w]ii> 
woidtl  a])|)reciato  them.  There  we  saw  ^Iv  Pettigrove, 
one  of  tlie  founders  of  Portland;  j\Ir  Phnnmer,  one 
of  the  earliest  settlers  at  I'ort  Townsend;  W.  G. 
Spencer,  N.  1).  Hill,  Jolin  L.  Butler,  Henry  A. 
Webster,  and  L.  II.  Priggs,  iVoni  all  of  whom  I  ob- 
tained additions  to  my  historical  stores.  Dr  Thomas 
T.  Minor  eiitertaiuc^d  us  handsomely,  and  showed  mo 
through  h.is  hospital,  Vv  hieh  was  a  model  of  neatness 
and  comfort.  He  obtained  from  Samuel  Hancock  of 
Coupeville,  Whidbey  isl;iii<h  a  voluminous  manu- 
HcrijU,  which  was  then  at  the  east  seeking  n  publisher. 
James  S.  Lawson,  ca[)ta!n  of  the  United  States  coast 
sui'vey  vessel  Faunthroij,  took  us  on  board  iiis  siiip 
and  promised  to  write  for  me  a  history  of  western 
coast  survey,  the  fullilment  of  which  reached  mo 
some  six  months  after  in  the  form  of  a  very  complete 
and  valuable  manuscript.  Here,  likewise,  I  encoun- 
tered Amos  Jk)wman,  of  Anacortes,  Fidalgo  island, 
wiiom  I  engaged  to  accompany  me  to  Oregon  and 
take  dictations  in  short-hand.  Bowman  was  o  scientitio 
adventurer  of  the  Bliss  type.     He  remained  with  mo 


,  1  a 


ELWOOD  EVANS. 


541 


until  my  northern  work  as  far  south  as  Salem  was 
(lone,  when  he  proceeded  to  San  Francisco  and  took 
his  place  for  a  time  in  the  hbrary.  He  was  a  good 
stenographer,  but  not  successful  at  literary  work. 

After  a  visit  to  Fort  Townsend,  upon  the  invita- 
tion of  William  Gouvcmcur  ]\Iorri.s,  United  States 
icvenue  agent,  wo  continued  our  way  to  Seattle, 
the  commercial  metropolis  of  tlie  territory.  Three 
tliousand  lethargic  souls  at  this  date  conipiiscd  the 
town,  with  a  territorial  university  and  an  eastern 
railroad  as  aspirations.  There  we  met  Veslcsr,  saw- 
mill owner  and  old  man  of  the  town;  and  Ilorton,  who 
drove  us  through  the  forest  to  the  lake;  and  fiercer, 
Lansclale,  Arthur  Denny,  Booth,  Hill,  Si)cncor,  and 
llaller,  from  each  of  whom  m'o  obtained  viduablo 
information.  Mrs  Abby  J.  Hanford  snbse(iuently 
sent  me  an  interesting  paper  on  early  times  at 
-brittle.  There  also  I  met  the  pioneer  cxpress- 
iiiun  of  both  California  and  British  Columbia,  Billy 
Ijallou,  a  rare  adventurer,  and  in  his  way  a  genius, 
sin(^(>  dead,  like  so  many  others.  Had  I  time  and 
space,  a  characteristic  picture  might  be  made  of  his 
ix'culiarities. 

The  North  Pacific,  a  neat  little  steamboat,  had 
(\Trried  us  across  from  Victoria  to  Port  Townsend, 
where  the  Dahota  picked  us  up  for  Seattle;  thence, 
alter  two  days'  sojourn,  we  embarked  for  OIymi)ia  on 
biiard  the  J\fesscnr/i'r,  Captain  Parker,  an  early  boat- 
man (m  these  waters.  When  fairly  all(jat  I  took  my 
stenographer  to  the  wheel-house,  and  soon  were  spread 
uixin  paper  the  striking  scenes  in  the  life  of  (^*aptain 
pMi'ker,  who,  as  our  little  craft  shot  through  the  glassy 
I  rcst-frinijed  inlet,  recited  his  history  in  a  clear  intel- 
n;4«iit  manner,  together  with  many  jxtints  of  interest 
discriptive  of  our  charming  surroundings. 

On  board  the  Messenger  was  Captain  Ellicoit  of  the 
United  States  coast  survey,  who  invited  us  to  land 


HISTORIC  EXPLORATIONS  NORTHWARD. 


at  his  camp,  some  ten  miles  before  reaching  Olympia, 
and  spend  tlic  nic^ht,  which  we  did,  touching  iirst  at 
Tacoma  and  Steihicooni.  After  an  excellent  dinner, 
Bowman  wrote  from  the  captain's  notes  until  eleven 
o'clock,  when  we  retired,  and  after  an  early  breakfast 
next  morning  the  captain's  steam  yacht  conveyed  us 
to  the  capital  of  the  territory. 

Immediately  upon  our  arrival  at  Olympia  we 
were  waited  upon  by  the  governor  and  IMrs  Ferry, 
Elwood  Evans,  historian  of  this  section,  Mrs  Evans, 
and  others  among  the  chief  ladies  and  gcnilcmcii 
of  the  place.  ]\Ir  Evans  devoted  the  wliole  of  two 
days  to  me,  drew  forth  from  many  a  nook  and  corner 
the  musty  rerorfls  of  tlio  past,  and  placed  the  whoic 
of  his  material  at  my  disposal. 

"I  had  hojied,"  said  ho,  "to  do  this  work  myself, 
but  your  advantages  arc  so  superior  to  mine  that  I 
cheerfully  vield.  1  onlv  wish  to  see  the  information 
I  have  gather' h1  during  the  last  thirty  years  properly 
used,  and  that  I  know  will  in  your  hands  be  done." 

And  so  the  soul  of  this  man's  ambition,  in  the 
form  of  two  large  cases  of  invaluable  written  and 
printed  matte?'  nn  the  Nurtlnvest  Coast,  was  slii[)ped 
down  to  )i;y  hln-ary,  of  which  it  now  constitutes  an 
imjiortant  [)art.  To  call  sucli  a  one  generous  is  faint 
praise.  Then,  as  well  as  before  and  after,  his  warm 
encouraging  words,  and  self-sacriticing  devotion  to  ui'' 
and  niy  work,  won  my  lasting  gratitude  and  affection. 

At  l\)rlland  \vv  fi»und  reatlv  to  assist  us,  bv  exerv 
means  m  th^ir  power,  many  warm  fiii-nds,  among 
whom  were  S.  F.  Chailwick,  thm  governor  of  Oregon; 
^Matthew  P.  Ueady,  oj' the  United  )Stat(S  judieiai\  ; 
AVilliani  Strong,  one  of  the  th'.st  appointees  of  the 
federal  government,  al'tei-  the  treaty,  as  judge  of  tlie 
supreme  court;  ]\lrs  Abernethy,  Vtidow  of  the  iir.it 
jn-ovi.-ional  governor  of  Oregon,  ami  Mrs  llarvoy, 
daugiitcrof  ])octor  McLougldin,  and  formerly  wife  o[' 
William  Cllenn  lliw.,  who  had  charge  of  tho  Hudson's 
Lay  Company  s  alfairs,  tirst  at  Stikeen  and  afterwaid 


OREGON. 


543 


at  Yerba  Buena.    Colonel  Sladen ,  aide-de-camp  to  Gen  - 
oral  Howard,  who  was  absent  fighting  Indians,  not 
only  threw  open  to  me  the  archives  of  the  militrry 
tlopartment,  but  directed  his  clerks  to  make  such  ab- 
stracts froni  tliem  as  I  should  require.     Old  Elisha 
White,  the  first  Indian   and  government  agent   in 
Oregon,  I  learned  was  in  San  I'rancisco.     On  in}'  re- 
tain I  immediately  sought  him  out,  and  had  before 
his  death,  which    shortly  followed,  many  long   and 
jirofitable  interviews  with  him,     I  should  not  fail  to 
mention  Governor  Gibbs,  General  Hamilton,  Stephen 
Coffin,  Mrs  J.    H.  Couch,  Mr  McCraken,  H.  Clay 
Wood,   Mr  Corbett,   Georije  H,   Atkinson,   Simeon 
Heed,  W.  Lair  Hill,  and  XL  W.  Scott  of  the  Orcgo- 
iiian.    II.  P.  EarJjart  kindly  supplied  me  with  a  set  of 
the    Oregon  giand  h)clge  iiroecedings.      In  company 
with  Dr  J.  C.  Hawthoriii3  vv  e  visited  his  insane  asylum, 
.1  model  of  neatness  and  ortlcr.    General  Joseph  Lane, 
h(3ro  of  the  Mexican  war  and  many  northern  Indian 
hatiles,  iirst  territorial  governor  of  (Jregoii,  and  iirst 
li'  kuate  from  tlio  territorv'  to  conixross,  I  met;  iirst  at 
I'oi aland  and  took  a  dictation  from  him  in  tlie  parlor 
of  the  Clarendon    iiotel,   at  which  we  were  staying, 
and  subsequently  obtained  furtlier  detail  at  his  lionie 
at    lioseburg.     J.    N.    Dolph   wrote    Mr    Cray,   the 
historian,  who  lived  at  Astt.)iia,  to  come  to  lN)rtland 
I"  see  me,  but  he  was  not  at  liome,  and  my  business 
with  him  had  to  be  done  by  letter.     ^Irs  F,  F.  Victor, 
whose  writings  on  Oregon  weie  by  far  the  best  extant, 
and  whom  I  wished  much  to  see,  was  absent  on  tlio 
.••outlu;rn  coast  gathering  infoi'tnation  for  the  revision 
>'!*  her  Urvijon  and  \V(is!,ii,<jti)ii.     On   my  return  to 
>un  Francisco  I  wrote  oiibring  her  an  engagement  in 
111}'   lil>rary,  wliicli  s!ie  acce[)lcd,  and  for  years  proved 
t)ae   of  my    most   failhrul    an-l    oUicient    assistants. 
Father  Ulanchet  was  shy  and  sus[»icious:  I  was  not 
'jf  ])is  fold;  but  as  liis  \\'uU\  range  of  experiences  was 
.•ihvady  in  |)rint  it  made  little  dilfeienee. 

Wc  had  been  but  a  few  hours  in  this  beautiful  and 


t 


"'J 


fl 


'f 


II 


1   V 


544 


HISTORIC  EXPLORATIONS  NORTHWARD. 


liospitable  city  when  wo  were  informed  that  the  annual 
meeting  of  the  Oregon  pioneers'  association  was  to 
open  immediately  in  Salem.  Dropping  our  work  at 
Portland,  to  be  resumed  later,  we  proceeded  at  oneo 
tf)  the  capital,  and  entered  upon  tlie  most  profitable 
five  days'  labor  of  the  entire  trip;  for  there  we  found 
concfrcfjated  from  the  remotest  corners  of  the  state 
the  very  men  and  women  we  most  wished  to  see,  those 
who  had  entered  that  region  when  it  was  a  wilderness, 
and  had  contributed  tlie  most  important  share  toward 
makinij  the  society  and  L'.>vernment  what  it  was,  Tluis 
six.  months  of  ordinary  travel  and  research  were  com- 
pressed within  these  five  days. 

I  had  not  yet  reiristerod  at  tlie  C'heniekfita  liotel 
in  Salem  wlion  J.  Henry  Brown,  secretary  of  the 
pioneers'  association,  presented  himself,  at  the  in- 
stance of  Governor  Cliadwick,  and  offered  his  services. 
He  was  a  fair  type  of  the  average  Orcgonian,  a  printer 
by  trade,  and  |)oor;  not  particularly  pleasing  in  oj)- 
})earanco,  somewhat  slovenly  in  his  dress,  and  in- 
different as  to  the  length  and  smoothness  of  his  hair. 
I  found  him  a  diamond  in  the  rough,  and  to-day  tlieie 
is  no  man  in  ( )regon  I  more  liighl}''  esteem.  1  [e  knew 
everybody,  intro(hiced  me  and  my  mission  to  every- 
body,  drununet^  the  town,  and  made  appointment'^ 
faster  than  I  could  keep  tlieni,  even  by  dividing  my 
force  and  eacli  of  us  taking  one.  He  secured  for  nie 
all  [)r'uted  matter  which  I  lacked.  He  took  me  to  the 
state  archives,  and  promised  to  make  a  transcri[)t  of 
tliem.  I  paid  him  a  slim  of  money  down,  for  whieh 
hi'  did  more  than  he  had  boruained. 

It  was  a  hot  anc^  dusty  tune  we  had  of  it,  but  wc 
worked  with  a  will,  clay  and  niiiht :  and  tlie  notes  tlieic 
taken,  under  ".lie  trees  and  in  the  buildings  ahout 
the  fair-gronnds,  at  tlie  hotel,  and  in  private  parlors 
and  offices,  made  a  liuge  pile  of  historic  lore  when 
written  out  as  it  was  on  our  return  to  San  Fran- 
cisco. There  was  old  Daniel  Waldo,  who,  thou^jh 
brought  by  infirmity  to  time's  border,  still   atoutly 


TIIR  <;00D  PKOPLE  OF  SALEM. 


:A5 


stumped  Ills  porch  ui<l  swore  roiintlly  at  everytliiiig 
mid  cver}l»()(l}-  hctwccn  the  Atlantic  and  Pacific. 
There  was  the  mild  uiis^sionarv  Parrish,  who  in  brin<r- 
iii^  the  poor  Indian  the  white  nian'y  religion  and  civ- 
ilization, strove  carnoistly  but  iruitlessly  to  save  him 
t'roiii  the  curses  of  civilization  and  reli<rion.  There 
was  John  Minto,  elo(|Uent  as  a  s|)eak(.'r  and  wi'iter, 
with  a  wile  hut  little  his  inferior:  the  women,  indeed, 
sjioki;  as  freely  iis  the  men  when  o-athered  round  the 
(■aiu[)  fires  of  tlie  Oregon  jiionccrs'  association.  Foi- 
< Mimjtle:  j\Irs  Minto  had  to  tell  how  women  lived,  and 
lalioivd,  and  sull'ered,  and  died,  in  the  early  days  of 
Oii'gon;  how  they  clothed  nnd  housetl  themselves, 
oi.  latlier,  how  they  did  without  houses  and  clothes 
during'  the  first  wet  winters  of  their  sojourn;  how 
an  .'uhnirint'  youn'jf  Khoemaker  had  measured  tlie  im- 
|iii  ss  of  her  maiden  feet  in  the  nmd,  and  sent  her  as  a 
jirrsLiit  her  Ih'st  Oregon  shoes.  Mrs  Samuel  A.  Clarke 
fiKik  a  merry  view  of  things,  and  called  crossing  the 
plains  in  185f  a  grand  [)icnic.  J.  Quinn  Thornton, 
with  liis  long  grizzly  hair  and  oily  tongue  M'as 
tliiic,  still  declaiming  against  Jesse  Ap[)legate  for 
leading  him  into  Oregon  by  the  then  untried  southern 
roiilo  thirty  years  before.  Still,  though  so-,  ewhat 
crahhed  and  unpo[)ular  among  his  fellow-townsmen, 
.ludge  Thornton  rendered  im[)ortant  service  by  trans- 
ii  1  ring  to  me  valuable  material  collected  by  him  foi' 
liti  lary  purposes,  for  he  too  had  afi'ected  history, 
hut  was  now  becoming  somewhat  infirm.  iJavid 
\(\vs(>me  knew  something,  he  said,  but  would  tell  it 
finly  for  money.  I  assured  David  that  the  country 
woidd  survive  his  silence.  Mr  Clarke,  with  his 
inniable  and  hospitable  wife  and  (laughters,  spared  no 
liauis  to  make  our  visit  })leasing  as  well  as  profitable 
Sriiator  Grover  was  in  Washington,  but  I  caught 
him  afterwaixl  in  San  Francisco  as  he  was  passing 
tiuDugh,  and  obtained  from  him  a  lengthy  and  vain 
;ihl,.  dictation.  Geueial  Joel  Palmer  told  me  all  ho 
could  remember,  but  his  mind  was  evidently  failing. 

Lit.  I.no.    35 


I 


't      .   ,  • 
i:     if. 

M  '  ft 


.■  i 


<-i  - 

la. 


1 


M6 


HISTORIC  EXPLORATIONS  NORTHWARD. 


James  W.  Ncwmith  rolated  to  me  several  anecdotes, 
and  afterward  sent  me  a  manuscript  of  his  own 
writing.  The  contribution  of  Medorem  Crawford 
was  important.  Among  the  two  or  three  hundrtsil 
prominent  Oregonians  I  met  at  Salem  I  can  only 
mention  further  Richard  II.  Ekin,  Horace  Holdeii, 
Joseph  Ilolman,  W.  J.  Ilerren,  and  II.  II.  Gilfry,  of 
Salem;  W.  II.  Rees,  Butteville;  13.  S.  Clark,  Cliain- 
poeg;  William  L.  Adams,  Hood  lliver;  B.  S.  Wilson, 
Corvallis;  Joseph  Watts,  Amity ;  George  B.  Roberts, 
Cathlamet;  R.  C.  Gear,  Silverton;  Thomas  Con-^- 
don,  Eugene  City;  B.  S.  Strahan,  and  Thomas  Mon- 
teith,  Albany;  and  Shamus  Carnelius,  Lafayette 
Philip  Ritz  of  Walla  Walla  gave  me  his  dictation  in 
San  Francisco. 

On  our  way  back  to  Portland  we  stopped  at  Oiv- 
gon  City,  the  oldest  town  in  the  state,  wlu^ro  I  met 
and  obtained  recitals  from  S.  W.  Moss,  A.  L.  Lovo- 
joy,  and  John  M.  Bat»)n,  and  arranged  with  W.  .11. 
II.  Fouts  to  copy  the  archives.  I  cannot  fail,  bofoiu 
leaving  Portland,  specially  to  mention  the  remarkahli; 
dictations  given  me  by  .Ju<lge  Deady  and  Jii(]'.;(; 
Strong,  eacli  of  wliicli,  with  the  authors'  writings 
already  in  print,  constitutes  a  history  of  Oregon  in 
itself  Indeed,  botli  of  these  geutlunien  had  thrcuL- 
eued  to  write  a  liistory  of  Oregon. 

Alter  a  Hying  \  isit  to  tlie  Dalles,  ovoiland  by  i;iil 
from  I'ortland  to  San  Francisco  was  next  in  order,  witli 
private  eonveyaiiee  over  the  Siskiyou  mountains,  ll 
was  a  trip  I  had  long  wished  to  make,  and  we  enjuMil 
evei-y  liour  of  it.  I  have  not  space  ibr  details.  Wo 
stopped  at  many  places,  saw  many  men,  and  gatln  iv.l 
much  new  material.  At  Drain  we  remained  one  day 
to  see  Jesse  A])plegate,  and  he  spent  the  entire  tiun; 
with  us.  He  was  a  remarkable  person,  in  sonif  iv- 
fspects  tlnj  foremost  man  iu  Oregon  duiing  a  puiud 
of  twenty  years.  In  him  were  united  the  praciliai 
and  the  intellectual  in  an  eminent  dei>iee.  He  could 
explore  new  regions,  la}'  out  a  I'arm,  and  write  essaj.-i 


JESSE  APPLEGATE. 


547 


with  equal  facility.  He  was  political  economist,  me- 
chanic, or  historian,  according  to  requirement.  His 
iatal  mistake,  like  that  of  many  another  warm-hearted 
and  chivalrous  man,  was,  as  he  expressed  it,  in  "sign- 
ing liis  name  once  too  often."  But  though  the  pay- 
jiiciit  of  the  defaulter's  bond  sent  him  in  poverty  into 
the  hills  of  YoMcalla,  he  was  neither  dispirited  nor 
dyspeptic.  At  seventy,  with  his  active  and  intellectual 
lift*,  .so  lately  iuU  of  flattering  probabilities,  a  financial 
faihire,  his  eye  was  as  bright,  his  laugh  as  unaffected 
and  merry,  his  form  as  erect  and  graceful,  his  step  as 
olaslif^  his  conversation  as  brilliant,  his  realizing  sense 
lit'  nature  and  humanity  as  keen,  as  at  forty.  Never 
si  Kill  I  forget  that  day,  nor  the  friendship  that  grew 
Mill  of  it. 

Tlic  veteran  Joseph  Lane  I  found  somewhat  more 
ilif.icult  of  mana<jrement  in  his  home  at  Iloseburj;  than 
al  Poll  land.  Congressional  honors  were  on  his  bram, 
lostcred  therein  by  his  friend  Applcgate,  Then  ho 
was  troubled  by  his  son  Lafayette,  who  though  some- 
what silly  was  by  no  means  without  abilit}'.  The 
lather  wished  the  son  to  aid  him  in  writing  his  history 
I'T  uie.  The  son  would  promise  evcTytliing  and  per- 
i'oi  III  nothing.  Nevertheless,  in  due  time,  by  persist- 
iil  (dbrt,  I  obtained  from  the  general  all  I  reipilred. 

-Vt  Jacksonville  I  sat  through  the  entire  night, 
luilil  my  carriage  called  for  me  at  break  of  day,  taking 
a  most  dis'nistino-  dictati(m  from  the  old  Indian- 
hut<her  John  E.  Koss.  This  piece  of  folly  I  do  not 
iv('nrvl  with  pleasure. 

I  must  conclude  this  narrative  of  my  northern 
jniniicy  with  the  mention  of  a  few  out  of  the  several 
.scons  I  met  (m  my  way  who  took  an  active  interest 
ill  I  heir  history: 

At  Drain,  besides  Jesse  Applegate,  I  saw  James  A. 
Httiling,  who  was  with  Walker  in  Nicaragua,  and 
'hihn  (J.  Drain,  the  founder  of  the  place.  At  Kose- 
hm  .;•  wci'e  A.  K.  Flint,  L.  F.  Mosher,  and  others,  and 
at  A.-hland,  O.  C.  Applegate.     By  reason  of  his  per- 


j:l' 
',  ^ 


,.1. 


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548 


IIISTOIIIC  KXI'LOIIATIOXS  NORTHWARD. 


sona]  devotion  I  will  forgive  my  old  friend  B.  F. 
Dowcll  for  employing  his  copyist,  William  Iloffnitiii, 
to  write  from  a  newspaper  belonging  to  the  historic;!  1 
society  of  the  place  a  sketch  of  lifty  manuscript 
pages,  at  a  cost  to  me  of  thirty  dollars.  After  J.  ha.l 
paid  this  exorbitant  charge  without  a  murnmr,  and 
Uowell  asked  for  more  similar  work  f  )r  his  protem', 
I  replied  that  historical  information  at  Jacksonvillu 
was  too  high  for  any  but  a  ten-millionaire  t(j  indul-v 
in;  and  that  it  was  strange  to  me  a  town  with  ])ublii- 
spirit  sulHcient  to  boast  an  historical  society  shoulii 
make  so  great  a  mistake  as  unmercifully  to  tlecci 
one  willing  to  spend  time  and  money  in  giving  ii 
a  place  in  history.  The  fact  is  that,  although  as  n 
rule  the  men  I  met  were  intelligent  enough  properly 
to  appreciate  my  efforts,  there  were  cverywheru  .i 
few  who  saw  in  them  only  mercenary  motives,  and 
would  impart  their  knowledge,  or  otherwise  open  In 
me  the  avenue  to  their  local  affairs,  only  for  a  j)rici'. 
On  the  strenij^th  of  J.  B.  Bosborough's  magniliccnl 
promises  I  gave  him  a  ream  of  paper  and  a  set  nf 
the  Xatice  Races,  and  received  in  return  not  a  word. 
This,  however,  was  not  so  bad  as  the  case  of  tliu 
honorable  Mr  Justice  Crease,  of  Victoria,  and  his  nmu 
(.'layt<^)n,  who  besides  a  liberal  supply  of  stationery  se- 
cured from  me  a  sum  of  money  for  promised  writiiiL;, 
not  a  line  (jf  \vhich  was  ever  sent  to  me. 

P.  P.  Prim,  T..  J.  C.  Duncan,  J.  :\I.  :\[cCidl, 
Lindsay  Applegate,  .f.  !M.  Sutton,  Daniel  (Jaliy. 
William  Bybce,  Da\id  Lin,  and  James  A.  Cardwrll 
were  also  at  .lacksonville.  Then  thi're  were  Ant  Ik  my 
!^^.  Slee[)(.'r,  Joseph  Kico,  D.  Beam,  A.  P.  McCait'ii. 
Thomas  A.  Bantz,  A.  E.  Baynes,  F.  G.  Ilr.iiii. 
of  Yreka;  (\  W.  Taylor  and  Charli.'S  ^IcDonald  h1 
Shasta;  Henry  F.  Johnson  and  Chauncey  C.  Bu-'Ii 
of  Beading,  important  names  in  the  local  history  <>t 
their  respective  places.  Mrs  Laura  Morton  of  the 
state  library,  Sacramento,  very  kindly  copied  for  niu 
the  diary  of  her  father,  Philip  \j.  Edwards. 


PKrOsITS  OF  MATKKIAL. 


M9 


The  7tli  of  July  saw  inc  again  at  my  table  at  Oak- 
ville.  It  was  during  the  years  innnediately  sucoceding 
the  return  from  my  expedition  to  the  north  lliat  1 
wrote  the  llistonj  i)f  tliv  Xortharst  Coast  and  the 
lUdnry  of  BritisJt  Columbia;  Onyon  and  .i/ashi  came 
ill  later. 

Ill  reviewing  this  journey  I  would  remark  that  I 
t'niiiid  at  the  head-quarters  of  the  honorable  Hudson's 
Hay  (Company  in  Yi(?toria  rooms  full  of  old  accounts, 
liiioks,  jiiid  letters,  and  boxes  and  bins  ol'  pa[)ers  iv- 
':itiii;^'  to  the  biisiiu>ss  of  the  company,  and  of  its  sev- 
I  lal  posts.  The  comj)any's  ( )regon  archives  were 
l.id'^frd  here,  and  also  those  from  the  J  lawailan  islands 
and  tlie  abandoned  posts  of  Xew  (^dedonia. 

The  oihce  of  the  [»'o\iii<'ial  secret:iry  contained  at 
this  time  books  and  pnjiers  jelati\e  to  llie  local  affairs 
(if  the  government.  I>.if  [  found  in  them  littit;  of  his- 
tnri'ai  importance.  At  tlio  government  jjouse,  in 
llir  otHce  of  the  govonior's  private  secretary,  was 
ri  'her  material,  in  the  shape  of  (K'sj)atclies  between 
the  governors  of  Ihiti^h  ('oluml»ia  and  ^^ancouver 
inland  and  the  secretary  of  state  f  )r  the  colonies  in 
London  and  the  governor-general  of  Canada.  There 
wrie  likewise  correspondence  of  various  kinds,  de- 
spatclies  of  the  minister  at  Washington  to  the  gov- 
<  rmnent  here  in  185(3-70,  paj)ei's  relative  to  tlie  Sau 
•iuaii  difliculty,  the  iia.val  authorities  at  I'lsipiimalt, 
IS,VJ-71,  letters  from  Admiral  Moresby  to  (jlovernor 
Hlaiicliard,  and  many  miscellaneous  records  and  papers 
iiiiiKutant  to  the  historian. 

Oregon's  most  })recious  mati>i-ial  foi*  history  I  found 
ill  (he  Iieads  of  her  hardy  })ioijeers.  The  of'ice  of  the 
ailjntant-gencral  of  the  department  of  the  Columbia 
<<inraiiied  record-books  and  papers  I'clative  to  the 
ailaii's  of  the  department  which  throw  nmdi  light 
(III  tlie  settlement  and  occupation  of  the  country, 
f  licre  are  letters-sent-books  and  letters-rcceived-books 
since   1858,  containinjjT  instructions  and  advices  con- 


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23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14580 

(716)  873-4503 


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550 


HISTORIC  EXPLORATIONS  NORTHWARD. 


,  i  i  ;| 


cerning  the  establislinieiit  of  posts  and  tlio  protection 
of  the  people.  The  pubUc  library,  Portland,  con- 
tained nothing  worthy  of  special  mention. 

There  was  once  much  valuable  material  for  history 
in  the  Oregon  (■^tate  library  at  Salem,  but  in  185G  a 
lire  came  and  swept  it  away.  The  legislature  passed 
a  law  requiring  a  copy  of  every  news[)aper  published 
in  the  state  to  be  sent  to  the  State  library,  but  the 
lawyers  came  and  cut  into  them  so  badly  for  notices 
or  any  article  they  desired  that  finally  the  lil)raiiaii 
sold  them  to  Chinamen  for  wrap[)ing-j)aper — a  sliift- 
less  and  sliort-siiihted  ]>olicv,  I  shoultl  sav.  It  liad 
been  the  intention  of  the  state  to  preserve  them,  hut 
as  no  money  was  appro])riated  for  binding,  they  wciv 
scattered  and  tk-strtjved.  At  the  time  of  mv  visit  in 
1878  there  was  little  in  the  state  library  except 
government  documents  and  law-books. 

In  the  rooms  of  the  ofovernor  of  Oregon  were  tlio 
papers  of  the  provisional  government,  and  otlui- 
such  as  naturally  accuuuilate  in  an  executive  oliici . 
When  I  saw  them  they  were  in  glorious  disordri', 
having  been  inrown  loose  into  box"s  without  I'espici 
to  hind  or  quality.  Engaging  Mr  J.  Ilenr}"  Brov.n 
to  make  Coynes  and  abstracts  of  them  for  me,  I  sti[ni- 
lated  with  him,  for  the  benefit  of  the  state,  that  lie 
should  leave  tlium  ]iroperly  classified  and  chronoloL;- 
ically  arranged.  Mr  13rown  had  made  a  collect ioii 
of  matter  with  a  view  of  writing  a  statistical  worlc  uu 
Oregon,  and  possessed  a  narrative  of  an  expeditiuu 
under  Joseph  L.  ]\Ieek,  sent  by  the  provisional  gov- 
ernment to  AVashington  for  assistance  during  tlic 
Indian  war.  lie  also  had  a  file  of  the  Onyouii'ii. 
A.  Bush  possessed  a  iile  of  the  Onyon  Skdesnuin. 
From  Mrs  Abernethy  I  obtained  a  file  of  the  Onyvu 
Spectator,  the  first  newspaper  published  in  Oregon. 
Mr  Ncsmith  had  a  file  of  the  journal  last  mentioned, 
besides  boxes  of  letters  and  papers. 

The  first  printing-press  ever  brought  to  Oregon 
was  sent  to  the  Sandwich    islands  by  the  Ameiieau 


KARI.Y  ORKdON  TRINTINC. 


561 


!)(>;. rd  of  commissioners  for  foreii^n  missions,  and  was 
used  there  for  printing-  books  in  the  Hawaiian  lan- 
^iiaj^e;  then,  at  the  re(|uest  (»f  doctors  Whitman  and 
Spa  aiding,  it  was  transferred  to  Oregon,  to  the  Nez 
I'erce  mission  on  the  Clearwatei-,  now  called  the 
Lapwai  agency.  This  was  in  1H38.  The  press  was 
used  for  some  time  to  print  hooks  in  the  Nez  Perc(5 
and  Walla  Walla  languages,  and  at  the  time  of  mv 
visit  it  stood  in  the  state  house  at  Salem,  a  rare 
and  curious  relic,  whore  also  might  be  seen  spf>cimens 
(if  its  work  under  the  titles:  Nez-Pcrcts  Flr.^f  Booh; 
designed  for  children  and  new  beginners.  Clear 
Wider,  Mission  Press,  1830.  This  book  was  prepared 
ill  the  Xez  Perce  language,  by  the  Rev.  H.  IT, 
Sjjauiding.  Jfaffheirnirn  TaaisJd.  Printed  at  the  'press 
of  the  Oreijon  Mission  under  the  direction  of  The 
A.nerlean  Board,  C.  F.  Missions.  Clear  Water:  M. 
fl.  Fuisy,  Printer — being  the  gospel  of  ^Matthew, 
translated  Ity  II.  II.  S[)aulding,  and  printed  on  eighty 
])ages,  small  -ito,  double  columns.  Another  title-page 
was  2\dapusapaiain  Wanipt  Tinias.  Paul  wah  sailas 
liitranpshina  Godxim  nxitashitpli.  Luk.  Kauo  wan- 
j)ith  LoRDirii  tininal-i.  Paul.  Lapwai:  1S4  ' — which 
hilongeil  to  a  book  of  hymns  prepared  by  H.  H. 
S])aulding  in  the  Nez  Perce  language. 

Before  setting  out  on  my  northern  iournev  I  had 
arranged  with  Mr  PetrofT  to  visit  Alaska,  and  con- 
Jume  the  northward  line  of  search  where  my  investi- 
gations should  leave  it,  tlius  joining  the  great  north- 
west to  southern  ON:[)loi'ations  already  eft'octcd. 

In  all  my  varied  undertakings  I  have  scarcely  asked 
it  favor  from  any  one.  I  never  regarded  it  in  the 
light  of  personal  favor  for  those  having  material  for 
history,  or  information  touching  the  welfare  of  them- 
selves,  their  family,  or  the  state,  to  give  it  me  to  em- 
body in  my  work.  I  always  felt  that  the  obligation 
was  all  the  other  way;  that  my  time  was  spent  foi- 
their  benefit  rather  than  for  my  own.     As  a  matter 


562 


HISTORIC  EXPLORATIONS  NORTHWARD. 


of  course,  my  object  was  to  benefit  neither  myself 
primarily  nor  them,  but  to  secure  to  the  country  a  good 
history. 

From  boyhood  I  have  held  the  doctrine  of  Fenelon : 
"I  would  like  to  oblige  the  whole  human  race,  es- 
pecially virtuous  people;  but  there  is  scarcely  aiiy- 
bo  1y  to  whom  I  woukl  like  to  bo  under  obligatioiiis." 

And  even  among  the  many  who  contributed,  there 
was  singular  lack  of  consideration  and  coopei-ation.  I 
might  go  to  any  amount  of  trouble,  spend  any  amount 
of  money,  yet  it  never  seemed  to  occur  to  them  to 
furnish  me  their  dictation  at  their  expense  instead 
of  mine.  Moneyed  men  of  San  Francisco  have  growled 
to  mo  by  the  hour  al)(>iit  their  great  sacrifice  of  valu- 
able time  in  telling  mc  their  experiences.  And  some 
of  them,  instead  of  offering  to  pay  the  copyist,  stipu- 
lated that  I  should  furnish  them  a  copy  of  their  dic- 
tation, which  they  had  been  at  so  much  trouble  to 
give.  One  man,  a  millionaire  farmei',  the  happy  ownei' 
of  forty  thousand  acres,  with  fifty  liouses  on  the  place, 
enough  to  accommodate  an  army,  permitted  one  of 
my  men  to  pay  his  board  at  tlio  hotel  during  a  ten 
days' dictation.  This  wasthouglitlessness  rather  than 
iidierent  meanness,  for  these  men  did  not  hesitate  t;* 
devote  themselves  to  public  good  in  certain  directions, 
j)ai'ticularly  where  some  newspaper  notoriety  was  to 
be  gained  by  it.  It  certainly  recjuirod  no  little  devo- 
tion to  the  cause  to  spend  my  time  and  money  iu 
thus  forcing  unappreciated  benefits  upon  others. 

Once  only  in  the  whole  course  of  my  literary  laboi's 
I  asked  free  passage  for  one  of  my  messengers  on  a 
sea-yfoin-x  vessel:  this  was  of  the  manaofer  in  San 
Francisco  of  the  Alaska  Counnercial  company,  and 
it  was  curtly  refused.  I  was  drawn  into  this  request 
by  the  seeming  friendliness  of  the  man  for  me  and 
my  work.  He  had  gone  out  of  his  way  to  express 
a  willingness  to  assist  mo  to  mateiial  for  the  history 
of  Alaska;  so  that  when  PetrofF,  who  knew  all  about 
Alaska,  assured  me  of  the  existence  there  of  valualjlu 


PETROFF'S  VISIT  TO  ALASKA. 


653 


material,  I  did  not  hesitate  to  ask  a  pass  for  him  up 
and  back  on  one  of  the  company's  vessels.  This  un- 
ci »iirteous  refusal  of  so  slight  a  ic(]uest,  aiming  at  the 
largest  public  benefit,  the  burden  of  which  rested 
wholly  upon  me,  the  cost  of  Petroff's  i)assage  being 
aljsolutely  nothing  to  the  company,  struck  me  as  very 
])('c'uliar  in  a  man  who  had  been  once  collector  of  the 
port,  and  at  that  verv  moment  was  i.ot  unwilling  to 
s[)i!nd  and  be  spent  for  his  country  as  United  States 
senator  at  Washington.  However,  we  will  rest  sat- 
isiled :  for  the  verj^  first  vessel  despatched  for  Alaska 
alter  this  conversation,  the  schooner  General  Miller, 
1)11  wliich  Mr  Petroff  would  have  sailed  had  permis- 
sion been  granted  him,  was  capsized  at  sea  and  all  on 
hoard  were  lost. 

I  innnediately  applied  through  Senator  Sargent  to 
tlic  government  authorities  in  Washington  for  passage 
lor  Mr  Petroff  on  boaixl  any  revenue-cutter  cruising 
ill  Alaskan  waters.  The  request  was  granted,  on  con- 
dition that  I  paid  one  hundred  dollars  for  his  sub- 
sistence, wliich  I  did. 

]\Ir  Petroff  embarked  at  San  Francisco  on  board 
tlio  United  States  cutter  Illahard  Rush,  Captain 
Ixiiley,  the  10th  of  July  1878,  touched  at  Port 
Towiisend  the  10th,  at  Nanaimo  for  coal  on  the  l7tli, 
and  anchored  that  night  in  the  Seymour  Narrows, 
in  the  gulf  of  Georgia.  Late  on  the  afternoon  of 
the  18th  Fort  Rupert  was  reached,  where  Mr  Petroff 
iiu't  ■Mr  Hunt,  in  charue  of  the  station,  who  had  re- 
sided  there  since  1849;  Mr  Hall,  a  missionary,  was 
also  settled  there.  Aftei*  sailing  from  Foii  Kupert 
in  the  early  morning  and  crossing  Queen  Charlotte 
sound,  anciionige  was  made  that  evening  in  Safety 
cove,  Fitzliugh  sound.  l*assing  Bellabella,  another 
of  the  Hudson's  Bay  company's  stations,  the  cutter 
continued  its  course  until  at  sundown  it  reached 
Holmes  ba}^  on  McKay  reach.  On  Sunday,  the 
'^Ist,  the  course  lay  tlirough  (Trenville  channel  to 
Lowe  inlet,  and  the  following  day  was  reached  Aber- 


554 


HISTORIC  EXPLORATIONS  NORTHWARD. 


hP 


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'{■' 


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!'■ 


1   I- 


deen,  Cardcna    bay,  where  an  extensive  salmon  can- 
nery was  situated. 

The  first  archives  to  be  examined  were  at  Fort 
Simpson.  There  PetrofF  met  Mr  McKay,  agent  of 
the  fur  company,  who  placed  at  his  command  the 
daily  journals  of  the  post  dating  back  to  1833.  Over 
these  papers  Petroff  worked  assiduously  from  night- 
fall till  half  past  one,  in  the  quaint  old  office  of  the 
Hudson's  Bay  company,  with  its  remnants  of  homo 
made  carpets  and  furniture.  Only  eight  volumes 
were  examined  during  his  limited  stay;  but  subse- 
quently I  had  the  good  fortune  to  obtam  the  loan  of 
the  whole  collection  for  examination  at  my  library  in 
San  Francisco.  In  inky  darkness  Petroft*  then  made 
his  way  out  of  the  stockade  of  the  fort  through  a 
wilderness  of  rocks  and  rows  of  upturned  canoes, 
until  he  reached  the  cutter.  Mr  McKay  had  taken 
passage  for  Fort  Wrangel,  and  during  the  trip  fur- 
nished a  valuable  dictation.  The  fort  was  readied 
on  the  evening  of  the  23d.  Upon  arriving  at  Fort 
Sitka,  on  the  morning  of  Jul}''  2Gth,  Petroff  immedi- 
ately began  to  work  upon  the  church  and  missionary 
archives  furnished  by  Father  Mitropolski,  and  spent 
the  evcnins:  obtaining  information  from  old  residents 
and  missionaries;  among  the  latter,  Miss  Kellogg, 
Miss  Cohen,  and  ]\Ir  Bredy  had  interesting  experi- 
ences to  relate.  Collector  ]3all  and  his  deputy  weru 
most  attentive.  Jul}''  28th  the  cutter  steamed  away 
for  Kadiak,  which  was  reached  two  days  later.  Th*^ 
agents  of  the  Alaska  company,  and  of  Falkncr, 
Bell,  and  company.  Messrs  Mclntyre  and  Hirseli, 
came  on  board  the  steamer,  and  were  very  hospitable 
Mr  Mclntyre  lent  Petroff  the  company's  journals, 
which  were  thoroughly  examined.  Among  those  win* 
furnished  personal  data  from  long  residence  in  tbis 
country  were  j\Ir  Stafeifk,  Mr  Zakharof,  and  Fatlur 
Kasherarof.  Others,  recently  arrived  from  Cook 
inlet,  also  gave  considerable  information.  MrPavlot, 
son  of  the  former  Russian  governor,  and  manager  ;it 


THE  HONORABLE  MEMBER  FROM  ALASKA. 


aod 


this  time  of  the  American  and  Russian  Ice  company, 
had  much  important  knowledge  to  impart. 

Mr  Mclntyre  presented  Mr  Petroff  with  a  mummy, 
which  was  sent  to  the  Bancroft  Library  and  placed  in 
a  glass  case.  It  was  obtained  by  Mr  Mclntyre  from 
Nutchuk  island,  from  a  cave  on  the  side  of  a  steep 
mountain  very  difficult  of  access.  In  this  cave  were 
the  dried  bodies  of  a  man  and  two  boys.  One  was 
secretly  shipped,  but  when  the  others  were  about  to 
be  placed  in  a  box  the  natives  interfered,  and  required 
their  burial  for  a  time.  It  was  Mr  Oliver  Smith,  a 
trader  at  Nutchuk,  who  undertook  their  removal, 
and  who  obtained  for  Petroff  the  leijend  connected 
with  them.  The  body  is  well  preserved,  with  finely 
formed  head,  bearing  little  resemblance  either  to 
Aleut  or  Kalosh.  The  hair  is  smooth  and  black;  it 
lias  the  scanty  mustache  and  goatee,  sometimes  no- 
ticeable amonff  Aleuts.  The  nose  has  lo>-:t  its  orijjinal 
!<hape.  Brown  and  well  dried,  with  chin  resting  on 
the  raised  knees,  this  strange  relic  has  a  curious  ap- 
pearance as  it  surve^'^s  its  new  surroundings.  This 
much  of  its  history  is  furnished  by  the  natives:  Long 
ago,  before  the  Russians  had  visited  these  lands,  there 
liad  been  war  between  the  Nutchuk  people  and  the 
]\Icdonopky,  Copper  River  people,  who  were  called 
Ssootchetnee.  The  latter  were  victorious,  and  carried 
liome  the  women,  slaying  the  men  and  boys.  The 
conquered  Nutchuks  waited  for  many  years  their  turn 
to  avenge  themselves.  One  day,  while  some  of  the 
Ssootchetnees  were  huntinij  sea-otter  alonij  the  shore, 
several  bidarkas  from  Nutchuk  approached,  and  in 
the  attack  which  followed  captured  the  hunters. 
Ouided  by  a  smoke  column,  they  went  on  shore  and 
discovered  a  woman  cooking.  She  was  one  of  the 
Nutchuk  captives,  who  had  been  taken  from  their 
island,  and  was  now  wife  and  mother  to  some  of  the  men 
just  secured.  Her  father  had  been  a  great  chief,  but 
was  dead;  and  when  she  was  returned  a  prisoner  to  her 


■  ^% 


It: 


5r.6  niSTOmC  EXPLORATIONS  NORTHWARD. 

native  land  the  chief  of  the  island  refused  to  recognize 
her  l)ecause  of  her  relations  with  the  Ssootchetneea. 
Cruelly  he  drove  her  from  him,  telling  her  to  go  to  a 
cave  in  the  side  of  a  mountain  if  she  sought  comfort. 
Obeying,  slie  proceeded  thither,  and  found  the  naked 
bodies  of  her  husband  and  two  sons.  So  copiously 
ilowed  her  te.srs  that  the  bottom  of  the  cave  was 
lillod  with  water,  which  submerged  the  bodies.  Nor 
were  her  groans  without  avail,  for  they  reached  the 
heart  of  tlie  powerful  Wilghtnce,  a  woman  greatly 
respected  for  licr  goodness,  and  because  she  controlled 
the  yahnon,  causing  them  every  year  to  ascend  the 
liver,  and  bringing  other  fish  from  the  deep  sea  near 
to  the  shore.  Wilghtnce  lived  in  a  lake  of  sweet 
water  above  the  cave,  and  soon  learned  the  story  of 
wi'ongs  and  injustice  from  the  weeping  woman.  Com- 
manding her  to  cease  lamenting,  and  assuring  lier  that 
she  need  not  grieve  for  the  want  of  skins  in  which  to 
sew  her  dead,  as  was  the  custom,  Wilghtnce  took  the 
bodies  where  should  fall  upon  them  the  waters  from 
her  mountain  lake,  and  in  a  short  time  they  became 
fresh  and  beautiful, shining  like  the  llesh  of  the  halibut. 
Then  were  they  returned  to  the  cave,  and  Wilghtnce 
promised  that  they  should  forever  nfter  remain  un- 
changed, lletribution  followed  the  chief's  cruelty, 
f(jr  Wilixlitnee  was  as  relentless  in  her  anti^er  as  she 
was  tender  in  her  sympathy,  and  not  a  salmon  was 
permitted  to  enter  the  river  or  lake  that  year,  which 
caused  the  death  from  hunger  of  the  chief  and  many 
of  his  tribe.  Then  was  the  woman  made  his  suc- 
cessor, and  during  her  rule  never  again  did  Wilgh- 
tnce permit  the  salmon  to  fail.  The  new  ruler  taught 
the  people  how  to  presei've  their  dead,  and  closed  the 
cave,  in  which  alone  and  forever  she  destined  should 
remain  her  Ssootchetnee  husband  and  children. 


On  the  3d  of  August  ]Mr  PetrofF  reached  the  trading- 
post  at  Belkovsky,  which  had  existed  there  for  fifty 
years;  thence  he  passed  along  the  southern  extremity 


ALASKA  MATERIAL 


857 


of  the  Alaskan  peninsula,  through  Unimak  strait  into 
Bering  sea,  to  Tlinlink,  Unalaska  island,  whcro  ho  i'i> 
niained  for  two  weeks,  and  wliere  he  received  cordial 
assistance  in  his  lahors  from  all  who  had  it  in  their 
power  to  help  him.  MrGreenbauni  of  the  Alaska  coiu- 
])any  secured  Jiiui  access  to  tlie  ("liurcli  and  coinpany 
records,  and  gave  him  a  desk  in  Iiis  oUict^  Thi-ougli- 
(»ut  tliis  trip  Mr  Grcenbaum  was  exceedingly  kind, 
liirnishing  liini  means  of  transportation,  and  otherwise 
assisting  in  his  explorations.  Bishop  Seghers  of  ]]ritish 
Colundjia,  and  Father  Montard,  the  Yukon  mission- 
aiy,  furnished  much  important  material  concerning 
the  Yukon  country.  The  bishop  was  an  accomplished 
llussian  linguist.  Father  Shashnikof,  the  most  in- 
telligent antl  respected  of  all  the  i-epresentatives  of 
the  Greek  church,  was  the  oldest  priest  in  Alaska, 
and  chief  authority  on  the  past  and  ])resent  condition 
of  the  Aleuts,  and  had  in  his  possession  documents  of 
great  value,  of  ancient  date,  and  interesting  matter. 

Mr  Petroff  visited,  among  other  places  of  historic 
interest,  the  spot  where  Captain  Levashcf  wintered 
in  17G8,  ten  years  before  Captain  Cook,  imagining 
himself  its  discoverer,  took  possession  for  the  British 
crown.  A  few  iron  implements  left  by  his  party,  or 
stolen  from  them,  arc  still  exhibited  by  the  natives. 
Again  he  visited  an  island  where  a  massacre  of  Rus- 
sians by  Aleuts  took  place  in  178G;  the  ground  plan 
of  the  Russian  winter  houses  is  still  visible. 

Mr  Lucien  Turner,  signal  service  officer  and  cor- 
respondent of  the  Smithsonian  institution,  had  been 
stationed  at  various  points  in  this  vicinity  for  many 
years,  and  had  made  a  thorough  study  of  the  languages, 
habits,  and  traditions  of  all  tribes  belonging  to  the 
Innuit  and  Tinneh  families.  Petroff  found  him  a  val- 
ualik;  informant  on  many  subjects. 

Hearing  of  an  octogenarian  Aleut  at  IMakushino, 
on  the  south-western  side  of  the  island,  whose  testi- 
mony it  was  important  to  obtain,  Petroff  went  in 
search  of  the  old  man,  accompanied  by  the  Ilinlink 


553 


HISTORIC  EXPLORATIONS  NORTHWARD. 


chief  Rooff  as  interpreter,  and  another  Aleut  as  guide. 
They  encountered  great  difficulties.  Instead  of  the 
five  or  six  streams  described  they  waded  knee-deep 
through  fifty-two  the  first  day.  At  five  the  next 
morning  they  started  again.  It  was  possible  only  at 
low  tide  to  round  the  projecting  points  of  rock,  and 
at  times  they  jumped  from  bowlder  to  bowlder,  at 
others  they  crept  along  narrow  slippery  shelves,  while 
the  angry  tide  roared  at  their  feet,  and  overhanging 
rocks  precluded  the  possibility  of  ascent.  Eleven 
wearisome  hours  of  walking  brought  them  to  a  lake, 
through  which  for  two  miles  they  waded,  as  theit- 
only  way  of  reaching  Makushino.  There  the  old 
chief  received  them  well  and  told  all  he  knew. 

Before  leaving  Ilinlink,  Mr  PetrofF  had  long  inter- 
views nith  Doctor  j\lclntyre,  Captain  Erskine,  and 
Mr  John  M.  jSIorton. 

Again  the  cutter  weighed  anchor,  amidst  dipping 
of  flags  and  wavinjx  of  handkerchiefs.  This  was  (Jii 
the  lyth  of  August,  and  at  noon  the  followmg  dav 
they  arrived  at  St  George,  where  Mr  jMorgan  and 
Doctor  Specting,  the  agent  and  physician,  of  the  fui- 
company,  came  on  board  and  gave  INIr  PetrofF  sonic 
notes*.  Upon  reaciiing  St  Paul  that  evening,  Mr 
Armstrong,  an  agent  of  the  company,  and  Petrofl' 
landed  in  a  whale-boat,  jiassing  between  jagged  roclcs 
through  dangerous  surf.  They  were  met  by  Captain 
Moulton,  treasury  agent,  Doctor  Kelley,  and  Mv 
Mclntyre,  who,  togetlier  with  Mr  Armstrong,  kindly 
assisted  in  malcinij:  extracts  that  night  from  their 
archives  and  hospitably  entertained  him.  Early  thu 
following  morning  Father  Shashnikof  placed  in  his 
hands  bundles  of  church  records,  with  which  tlio 
former  priest  had  begun  to  paper  his  house,  but  th(> 
present  incumbent,  recognizing  their  value,  rescued 
the  remainder.  The  chief  of  the  Aleuts  spent  somo 
time  with  him,  giving  a  clear  account  of  the  past  aiul 
present  condition  of  his  people.  He  was  very  intelli- 
gent, and  evidently  had  Russian  blood  in  his  veins. 


ABOUT  ALTOO  ISLAND. 


800 


At  Tchitchtagof,  on  Altoo  island,  where  the  cuttop 
anchored  the  25th,  Mr  PctrofF  found  rocorda  of  the 
community  kept  during  the  past  fifty  years.  Five 
clays  after  saw  the  Rush  at  Atkha,  in  Nazan  bay. 
Here  some  interesting  incidents  of  early  days  were 
obtained  from  two  old  men  and  one  M'oman  of 
eighty.  On  all  these  islands  the  natives  spoke  of  M. 
Pinart  and  his  researches.  On  the  1st  of  Septem- 
ber they  landed  at  Unalaska,  where  PctrofF  met  Mr 
Lunievsky,  Mr  King,  Mr  Fred  Swift,  and  the  Ilev- 
orcnd  Innocentius  Shashnikof,  and  was  at  once  put 
in  possession  of  the  archives,  and  materially  assisted 
in  his  labors  by  the  priest  throughout  his  stay.  The 
Rush  was  detained  here  several  days  on  account  of 
the  weather.  Gregori  Krukof,  trader  from  a  neigli- 
boring  village,  Borka,  on  the  cast  side  of  the  island, 
and  the  native  chief  Nikolai,  visited  Unalaska  during 
that  time,  and  took  Petroir  back  with  them  to  visit 
the  place  where  Captain  Cook  had  wintered  in  1778. 
]3orka  is  situated  on  Beaver  bay,  between  a  lake  and 
a  small  cove.  On  the  arrival  of  the  bidarkas  the 
chief  assembled  the  oldest  of  the  inhabitants  and 
f|uostioncd  them  as  to  their  knowledge  of  Captain 
(Jook.  They  related  what  they  remembered  as  told 
them  by  their  parents;  that  once  a  foreign  vessel 
came  into  Beaver  bay  and  anchored  opposite  to  their 
village,  off  Bobrovskaya,  where  they  remained  Ijut 
a  few  days,  afterward  sailing  around  into  what  has 
ever  since  been  called  the  "  English  burkhta,"  or  bay, 
whore  the  vessel  was  moored  and  remained  all  winter. 
The  foreigners  built  winter- quarters,  and  with  the 
natives  killed  seals,  which  abounded  at  that  time. 
The  captain's  name  was  Kuklui.  The  following  morn- 
ing Mr  Petroff,  with  the  chief  as  guide,  vi.sitcd  the 
places  mentioned.  All  that  remains  of  Bobrovskaya 
is  a  gigantic  growth  of  weeds  and  grass  over  the 
building  sites  and  depressions  where  houses  had 
stood.  A  whitewashed  cross  marks  the  spot  where 
the  chapel  was  located,  and  at  some  distance  away. 


*  »1 


C60 


HISTOIUC  KXPLORATIONS  NORTHWARD. 


on  the  lilll-sidc,  a  few  i)osts  and  crosses  indicate  tlic 
ancient  graveyard.  Two  or  three  miles  interven».'d 
between  the  old  villa<jc  and  the  anchorasfc,  tiic  trail 
benig  obliterated  by  luxuriant  vegetation.  It  is  a 
beautiful  landlocked  bay,  and  as  a  harbor  for  safety 
and  conv(Mii(!nce  can  not  be  excelled  in  all  vVlaska. 
Abreast  of  this  anchorage  is  a  circular  basin,  into 
which  empties  the  water  runniiiLf  over  a  led<re  of 
rocks.  Between  the  basin  and  tlie  beach  is  an  ex- 
cavation in  a  side  hill,  twenty  feet  square,  indicating 
the  winter  habitation  of  foreigners,  as  it  is  contrary 
to  the  custom  of  the  Aleuts  to  build  in  that  shape  or 
localit3\ 

Mr.  Pctrotr  made  an  expedition  to  some  Indian 
fortifications,  supposed  to  be  two  hundred  years  old, 
situated  on  the  top  of  a  mountain  two  thousand  feet 
high  and  ten  miles  distant.  According  to  tradition 
there  had  been  fierce  v/ai-s  between  the  Koniagas,  oi- 
Kadiak  islanders,  and  the  Unalaska  peojjle,  and  the 
ruins  of  fortifications  on  both  islands  confirm  these 
traditions. 

On  the  9th  of  October  the  Bnsh  started  on  the  homo- 
ward  voyage,  reaching  San  Francesco  the  27th. 

Several  *other  trips  to  Alaska  were  made  by  ^li' 
Petroif  during  his  engagement  with  mc,  and  wliilc 
iKmc  of  them,  like  the  one  just  narra^ted,  were  wholly 
for  historical  purposes,  material  for  history  was  vwv 
jirominent  in  his  mind.  After  the  return  of  tlie  Iius/i. 
Mr  Petroff  resumed  his  labor  in  the  library,  which 
for  the  most  part  consisted  in  extracting  Alaska  ma- 
terial and  translating  Russian  books  and  manuscri[>U 
for  me. 

While  thus  engaged  he  encountered  a  notice  in  tlio 
Alaska  Times  of  the  2d  of  April  1870  that  General 
J.  C.  Davis  had  addressed  to  the  secretary  of  war  in 
Washington  five  boxes  of  books  and  papers  fornui ly 
belonging  to  the  Russian- American  fur  compaii\, 
and  had  sent  them  to  division  head-quarters  at  San 


PETROFF  IN  WASHINGTON. 


501 


Francisco  by  the  Xcivhern.  It  was  in  December  1878 
that  this  important  discovery  was  made.  Upon  inquiry 
of  Adjutant- general  John  C.  Kelton  it  was  ascer- 
tained that  the  boxes  had  been  forwarded  to  the  war 
department  in  Washington.  Secretary  !McCrary  was 
({lU'stioned  upon  the  matter,  and  replied  that  the  boxes 
]i;i(l  been  transferred  to  the  state  department.  Mr 
John  M.  Morton  and  William  Gouverneur  Morris, 
llion  on  their  way  to  Washington,  were  spoken  to  on 
Ihu  subject,  and  promised  to  institute  a  search  for  tho 
archives.  On  the  13th  of  February  1870  a  letter 
iVoin  Mr  Morton  announced  that  the  boxes  had  been 
found  by  him  among  a  lot  of  rubbish  in  a  basement 
of  the  state  department,  where  they  were  open  t  . 
inspection,  but  could  not  be  removed.  The  greater 
j)ortion  of  tho  rio^f,  two  years  was  spent  by  Mr 
Pctroff  in  Washington  extracting  material  for  my 
Ilistorj/  of  Alaska  from  the  contents  of  those  boxes. 
The  library  of  congress  was  likewise  examined;  also 
the  archives  of  the  navy  and  interior  and  coast  sur- 
vey departments,  and  the  geological  and  ethnological 
bureaus. 


Lit.  Ian,   86 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 


FURTHER     LIBRARY    DETAIL. 


^!"    ' 


I  worked  with  patience,  whiclj  means  almost  power.  I  did  some  excel- 
lent things  indifferently,  some  bad  things  excellently.  Both  were  praisfd; 
the  latter  loudest.  j^^^  Browiiiwj. 

In  treating  of  the  main  issues  of  these  industiiiN, 
I  have  .somewhat  neglected    hhrary    details,  wliicli  i 
esteem  not  the  least  inn)ortant  part  of  these  experi- 
ences.    If  the  history  of  my  literary  efforts  be  worth 
the  writing,  it  is  in  the  small  particulars  of  e very-day 
labors  that  the  reader  will  lind  the  greatest  })r()lit. 
The  larger  results  speak  for  themselves,  and  neotl  no 
particular  description;  it  is  the  way  in  which  things 
were  done,  the  working  of  the  system,  and  the  means 
which  determined  results,  that  are,  if  anytliing,  of 
value  here.    For,  observes  Plutarch,  "Ease  and  qiiirk- 
ness  of  execution  are  not  fitted  to  give  those  enduriiiL;' 
qualities  that  are  necessary  in  a  work  for  all  tinic; 
while,  on  the  other  hand,  the  time  that  is  laid  out  on 
labor  is  amply  re])aid  in  the  permanence  it  gives  to 
the  performance."    And,  as  Maudsley  observes,  "To 
apprehend  the  full  meaning  of  common  things,  it  is 
necessary  to  study  a  great  many  uncommon  things." 
I  cannot  by  any  means  attempt  to  give  full  details, 
but  only  specimens;  yet  for  these  I  will  go  back  to  the 
earlier  period  of  the  work. 

Kcgular  business  hours  wer<^  kept  in  tlic  libiarv, 
namely,  from  eight  to  twelve,  and  from  one  to  six. 
Smoking  was  i'reely  allowed.  Certain  assistants  de- 
sired to  work  evenings  and  draw  extra  pay.     This  was 

I  sua) 


MKXRANs   AS   ASSISTANTS. 


668 


permitted  in  some  instances,  but  always  under  protest. 
Nine  hours  of  steady  work  were  assuredly  enou«^h  tor 
one  day,  and  additional  time  seldom  increased  i-esults; 
so,  after  offering  disscouragcment  for  several  years,  a 
rule  was  established  abolishing  extra  work. 

So  rapid  was  the  growth  of  the  Hbraiy  after  18G9, 
uud  so  disarranged  had  become  the  books  by  much 
luindling  for  indexing  and  other  [)urposes,  that  by 
midsummer  1872,  when  Goldschmidt  had  finished  a 
long  work  of  supplementary  cataloguing,  and  the  later 
arrivals  were  ready  to  occupy  their  })laces  on  the 
shelves,  it  was  deemed  expedient  to  drop  the  regular 
routine  and  devote  three  or  four  weeks  to  placing 
things  in  order,  which  was  then  done,  and  at  intervals 
thereafter. 

Mr  Oak  spent  tliree  montlis  in  perfecting  a  pUiii 
for  the  new  index,  and  in  indexing  a  number-  oi'  books 
in  order  to  test  it  and  [)erfect  the  system.  Gold- 
.schniidt's  time  was  ijiven  to  takin";  out  notes  on  the 
subject  of  languages,  with  some  worlc  on  the  large 
i'llniographical  map,  which  was  prepared  only  as  the 
work  progressed.  Ilarcourtwas  indexing,  Fisher  was 
taking  out  notes  on  mythol(.)gy,  some  were  gathei'ing 
liistoi'ical  reminiscences  from  [)ioneers;  and  others 
tiiutiiuied  their  epitomizing  of  voyages  and  other  nar- 
latives. 

(lalan,  the  expatriated  governor  of  Lower  Cah- 
lornia,  came  to  work  in  the  library  in  Jnly.  Some 
subjects  were  at  iirst  given  him  to  extract  from 
Spanish  authorities,  but  his  I'nglish,  1  hough,  i-eading 
smoothly,  was  so  very  diifuse  and  unintelligible 
that  1  was  obliijfed  to  elian<>'e  his  occupation.  Even 
alter  that  I  regarded  him  as  a  superior  man,  and  he 
was  given  some  ini])ortant  books  to  index.  1  remem- 
Iji'i- that  he  was  obliged  to  index  JlaircraH  Historic 
(ivjicral  two  or  three  times,  before  I  was  satisfied  with 
it.  IIo  was  one  of  a  class  frequently  met  with,  partic- 
ularly among  Mexicans;  he  could  talk  well  on  almost 
uuy  subject,  but  his  chain  of  ideas  was  sadly  bi'okeu 


664 


FURTHER  LIBRARY  DETAIL. 


in  attempting  to  write.  It  is  somewhat  strange  that 
a  person  of  this  kind  should  have  worked  for  a  year 
before  his  work  was  proved  wholly  valueless. 

The  books  given  out  to  the  indexers  at  this  time 
were  such  as  contained  information  concerning  those 
tribes  which  were  first  to  be  described;  that  is,  if  I 
was  soon  to  be  writing  on  the  peoples  of  New  Cale- 
donia, as  the  interior  of  British  Columbia  was  once 
called,  I  would  give  the  indexers  all  books  of  travel 
through  that  region,  and  all  works  containing  infor- 
mation on  those  nations  first,  so  that  I  might  have 
the  benefit  of  the  index  in  extracting  the  material.  In 
this  manner  the  indexers  were  kept  just  in  advance  of 
the  note-takers,  until  they  had  indexed  all  the  books 
in  the  library  having  in  them  any  information  con- 
cerning the  aborigines  of  any  part  of  the  territory. 
At  intervals,  whatever  the  cause  of  it,  the  subject 
came  up  to  me  in  a  new  light,  and  I  planned  and 
partitioned  it,  as  it  were,  instinctively. 

In  the  pursuance  of  the  primary  objects  of  life,  it 
is  easier  for  the  man  of  ordinary  ability  to  perform  a 
piece  of  work  himself  than  to  secure  others  to  do  it.  I 
do  not  say  that  the  proprietor  of  a  manufactory  is  or 
should  be  more  skilful  than  any  or  all  his  workmen. 
It  is  not  necessary  that  the  successful  manager  of  a 
printing  establishment,  for  example,  should  know 
better  how  to  set  type,  read  proof,  and  put  a  form  on 
a  press  than  those  who  have  spent  their  lives  at  these 
several  occupations;  but  as  regards  the  general  earn- 
ing on  of  the  business  he  can  himself  perform  any 
part  of  it  to  his  satisfaction  with  less  diflSiculty  than 
in  seeking  the  desired  results  through  others.  But 
since  civilization  has  assumed  such  grand  proportions, 
and  the  accumulated  experiences  of  mankind  have 
become  so  bulky,  it  is  comparatively  little  that  one 
man,  with  his  own  brain  and  fingers,  can  accomplish. 
He  who  would  achieve  great  results  must  early  learn 
to  utilize  the  brain  and  fingers  of  others.    As  applied 


MR  NEMOS'  SYSTEM. 


563 


to  the  industrial  life,  this  has  long  been  understood; 
but  in  regard  to  intellectual  efforts,  particularly  in  the 
field  of  letters,  it  has  been  regarded  as  less  practicable, 
and  by  many  impossible. 

Often  have  I  heard  authors  say  that  beyond  keep- 
iii<»-  the  books  in  order,  and  brinffinc:  such  as  were  re- 
(juircd,  with  some  copying,  or  possibly  some  searching 
now  and  then,  no  one  could  render  them  any  assistance. 
Thoy  would  not  feel  safe  in  trusting  any  one  with  the 
manipulation  of  facts  on  which  was  to  rest  their  repu- 
tation for  veracity  and  accuracy.  So  of  old  held  priests 
with  regard  to  their  religion,  and  merchants  where 
their  money  was  at  stake.  I  am  as  zealous  and  jealous 
for  the  truth  of  mv  statenionts,  I  venture  to  assert, 
us  jiny  one  who  ever  wrote  history  ;  I  am  exceedingly 
careful  as  t»t  the  shades  of  truth  preseiitoil,  holding 
false  coloring  of  any  kind  e([ui\alent  to  downright 
inendacity;  yet,  fortunately,  thore  have  always  been 
those  among  my  assistants  to  the  accuracy  of  wliose 
work  1  would  trust  as  implicitly  as  to  my  own.  For- 
tunately, I  say;  for  had  it  not  been  .so,  I  could  have 
accomplished  but  little.  This  has  been  conclusively 
shown  in  preceding  chapters;  and  the  truth  t)f  the 
asscition  will  be  brouijht  into  clearer  lisiht  as  further 
details  are  given. 

The  system  of  note-taking,  as  perfycted  in  details 
and  supervised  by  Air  Nemos,  was  as  follows :  The 
first  step  for  a  beginner  was  to  make  I'ofcrences,  in 
Itooks  given  him  for  that  purpose,  to  the  information 
riH^uired,  giving  the  [)lace  where  found  and  the  nature 
of  the  facts  therein  mentioned;  after  this  he  would 
take  out  the  information  in  the  form  of  notes.  By 
this  means  he  would  learn  how  to  classify  and  how 
ihily  to  condense;  he  would  also  become  familiar  with 
tlic  ri'spective  merits  of  authors,  their  bent  of  thought, 
;iiid  the  age  m  which  they  lived,  and  the  fulness  and 
reliability  of  their  works. 

The  notes  were  written  on  lialf  sheets  of  legal  paper, 
one  followms:  another,  without  reijfard  to  length  or  sub- 


i   '  hi 


i 


566 


FURTHER  LIBRARY  DETAIL, 


ject,  but  always  leaving  a  space  between  the  notes  so 
that  they  could  be  torn  apart.  The  notes  when  sepa- 
rated and  arranged  were  filed  by  means  of  paper  bags, 
on  which  were  marked  subject  and  date,  and  the 
bags  numbered  chronologically  and  entered  in  a  book. 

After  the  notes  had  been  used,  with  all  printed 
matter  bearing  on  the  subject,  they  were  returned 
to  the  bags  to  be  pasted  on  sheets  of  strong  brown 
paper,  folded  and  cut  to  the  required  size.  Tliis 
work  would  require  the  labor  of  two  men  and  two 
boys  for  over  a  year.  These,  bound  and  lettered, 
would  make  some  three  hundred  books,  fifteen  by 
eighteen  inches,  varying  in  thickness  according  to 
contents. 

In  this  it  v/as  deemed  best  to  follow  the  plan  of  tlu' 
history,  and  present  the  sul>ject  much  more  in  detail 
than  the  printed  volumes.  This  series  would  consti- 
tute in  itself  a  library  of  Pacific  coast  history  which 
eighty  thousand  dollars  could  not  duplicate  even  with 
the  library  at  hand. 

Thus  qualified,  the  assistant  was  given  a  mass  of 
notes  and  references  covering  a  certain  period,  or 
series  of  incidents,  with  instructions  to  so  reduce  tin 
subject-matter  that  I  might  receive  it  weeded  of  ;ill 
superlluitics  and  repetitions,  whether  in  words  or  in 
facts  already  expressed  by  previous  authors,  yet  con- 
taining every  fact,  however  minute,  every  thoiiu'it 
and  conclusion,  including  such  as  occurred  to  tli>' 
preparer,  and  arranged  in  as  good  an  historic  oidi  i 
as  the  assistant  could  give  it. 

The  method  to  be  followed  by  the  assistant  to  this 
end  was  as  follows:  He  arranged  the  references  and 
notes  that  pointed  to  events  in  a  chronologic  ordoi'.  yet 
brin^inij  toojcther  certain  incidents  of  different  d;i1  - 
if  the  historic  order  demanded  it.  Institution;!!  v 
and  descriptive  notes  on  commerce,  education,  witli 
geography,  etc.,  were  then  joined  to  such  dates  m 
occurrences  as  called  for  their  use:  geography  cominL;" 
together  with  an  expedition  into  a  new  countiy;  cdu- 


EXTRACTING  MATERIAL. 


567 


cation,  with  the  efforts  of  churchmen;  commerce  in 
connection  with  the  rule  of  some  governor  who  pro- 
moted certain  phases  of  it;  descriptions  of  towns, 
when  they  were  founded,  destroyed,  or  prominently 
brought  forward. 

This  preliminary  grouping  was  greatly  facilitated 
by  the  general  arrangement  of  all  the  notes  for  the 
particular  section  of  territory,  Central  America,  Mex- 
ico, California,  etc.,  already  made  by  an  experienced 
assistant.  In  connection  with  both  arrangements  a 
more  or  le&s  detailed  list  of  events  and  subjects  was 
made  to  aid  in  grasping  the  material. 

With  the  material  thus  grouped  it  was  found  that 
each  small  subdivision,  incident,  or  descriptive  matter 
liad  a  number  of  notes  bearing  upon  it,  from  different 
authors,  sometimes  several  score.  These  must  then 
bo  divided  into  three  or  more  clasees,  according  to 
the  value  of  the  authority:  the  first  class  comprising 
original  narratives  and  reports;  the  second,  such  as 
were  based  partly  on  the  first,  yet  possessed  certain 
oriij^inal  facts  or  tlioacrhts:  the  third,  those  which  wen; 
merely  copied  from  others,  or  presented  brief  and 
liasty  compilations. 

The  assistant  then  took  the  best  cf  his  first-class 
authorities,  the  fullest  and  most  reliable,  so  far  as  he 
could  judge  after  a  brief  glance,  and  proceeded  to  ex- 
tract subject-matter  from  the  pages  of  tlie  book  to 
which  the  reference  directed  him.  This  he  did  partly 
ill  liis  own  language,  partly  in  a  series  of  quotations. 
The  accurate  use  of  quotation  mai'ks  and  stars  con- 
sumed much  til  Yet  I  always  insisted  upon  this: 
llie  note-taker  could  throw  anything  he  pleased  into 
Ills  own  words,  but  if  he  used  the  exact  words  of  thr 
author  he  must  [)laii)ly  indicate  it.  Sometimes  lie 
I'ound  the  extract  already  made  on  the  slips  called 
notes.  The  same  book  might  appear  to  be  the  best 
authority  for  a  succession  of  topics,  and  the  extracting 
was  continued  for  some  time  before  the  book  was  laid 
aside.     Each  extract  was  indexed  in  the  margin,  and 


sr>8 


FURTHER  LIBRARY  DETAIL. 


at  the  foot  of  it,  or  on  the  page,  was  written  the  title 
of  the  book  or  paper  from  which  it  had  been  taken. 

The  next  best  authorities  vere  then  read  on  the 
same  topic  or  scries  of  topics,  and  any  information 
additional  or  contradictory  to  what  had  already  been 
noted  was  extracted  and  placed  at  the  foot  of  the  page 
herring  on  the  subject,  or  on  a  blank  page,  on  whicli 
was  indexed  a  heading  similar  to  that  of  the  original 
page,  so  as  to  bring  the  same  topics  together.  If 
these  contradictions  or  additions  bore  on  particular 
expressions  or  facts  in  the  original  extract,  they  were 
subdivided  in  accordance  with  and  by  means  of  num- 
bers brought  in  connection  with  the  particular  word 
or  line.  To  each  subdivision  was  adflcd  the  title  of 
the  authority.  The  titles  of  all,  or  of  several  first- 
class  authorities  whicli  aixrecd  with  the  oricfinal  ox- 
tract,  were  also  added  to  the  foot  of  that  extract,  witli 
the  remark,  '  the  same  in  brief,'  or  '  in  full,'  as  the  case 
might  be.  This  showed  me  which  authors  confirmed 
and  which  contradicted  any  statement,  and  enabled 
mo  readily  to  draw  conclusions.  From  second-class 
authors  the  assistant  obtained  rarely  anything  l)ut 
observations,  while  the  third  class  yielded  sometimes 
nothing. 

As  he  proceeded  in  this  refining  process,  or  system 
of  condensation,  the  assistant  added  in  notes  to  par- 
ticular lines  or  paragraphs  his  own  observations  on 
the  character  of  the  hero,  the  incident,  or  the  author. 

By  this  means  I  obtained  a  sort  of  bird's-eye  view 
of  all  evidence  on  the  topics  for  my  history,  as  I  took 
them  up  one  after  the  other  in  accordance  with  niv 
own  order  and  plan  for  writing.  It  saved  me  the 
drudgery  and  loss  of  time  of  thoroughly  studying  any 
but  the  best  authorities,  or  more  than  a  few  first-class 
ancient  and  modern  books. 

To  more  experienced  and  able  assistants  were  given 
the  study  and  reduction  of  certain  minor  sections  of 
the  history,  wliich  I  employed  in  my  writing  after 
more  or  less  condensation  and  clianiic 


DIFFICULTY  OF  CONDENSATION. 


560 


The  tendency  with  all  the  work  was  toward  volu- 
minousness.  Not  that  I  am  inclined  to  prolixity, 
but  the  subjects  were  so  immense  that  it  often  ap- 
peared impossible  to  crowd  the  facts  within  a  compass 
which  would  seem  reasonable  to  the  reader.  And 
none  but  those  who  have  tried  it  can  realize  all 
the  difficulties  connected  with  this  kind  of  writing. 
Besides  increasing  the  labor  fourfold,  it  often  inter- 
feres with  style,  dampens  enthusiasm,  and  makes  an 
author  feel  like  one  doomed  to  run  a  mile  race  in  a 
peck  measure.  Just  as  every  horse  has  its  natural 
gait,  from  which  it  is  forced  to  go  faster  or  slower 
only  to  its  disadvantage,  so  in  writing,  a  certain  num- 
ber of  words  are  necessary  to  place  before  the  aver- 
age mind  a  subject  in  its  strongest  light,  additions 
and  subtractions  being  alike  dotriuioiital.  Wliilo  I 
was  resolved  to  take  space  enough  fairly  to  present 
the  subject  under  consideration,  I  could  not  but 
remember  that  as  books  multiply,  readers  demand 
conciseness,  and  that  no  fault  can  be  greater  in  this 
present  ago  than  verbosity. 

In  November  1872  I  engaged  a  copperplate  en- 
graver, and  from  that  time  till  the  Native  Races 
was  completed  I  had  engravers  at  work  at  the 
Market-street  end  of  the  lil)rary.  Besides  this,  con- 
siderable engraving  was  given  out.  The  cuts  for 
volume  IV.,  such  of  them  as  I  did  not  purchase  from 
eastern  authors  and  publishers,  were  al'  prepared  in 
the  engraving  department  of  the  printing-office,  on 
the  tliird  floor. 

On  this  floor  likewise,  a  year  or  two  later,  the  type 
was  set  and  the  first  proof  read.  Matters  of  no  in- 
<'onsiderable  importance  and  care  with  me  were  the 
type  I  should  use  and  the  style  of  ray  page.  After 
examining  every  variety  within  my  reach,  I  settled 
upon  the  octavo  English  edition  of  Buckle's  Civiliza- 
tion, as  well  for  the  text  and  notes  as  for  the  system 
of  numbering  the  notes  from  the  beginning  to  the 


?s 


if 


570 


FURTHER  LIBRARY  DETAIL. 


end  of  the  chapter.  It  was  plain,  broad-faced,  clear 
and  beautiful,  and  easily  read.  The  notes  and  refer- 
once  figures  were  all  in  perfect  taste  and  harmony. 
It  is  a  style  of  page  that  one  never  tires  of.  I  sent 
to  Scotland  for  the  type,  as  I  could  find  none  of  it  in 
America. 

It  was  about  this  time  that  I  studied  the  question 
of  the  origin  of  the  Americans,  to  find  a  place  in 
some  part  of  the  Native  Races,  I  did  not  know  then 
exactly  where.  When  I  began  this  subject  I  pro- 
jiosed  to  settle  it  immediately;  when  I  finished  it  1 
was  satisfied  that  neither  I  nor  any  one  else  knew,  or 
without  more  light  ever  could  know,  anything  about 
it.  I  found  some  sixty  theories,  one  of  them  about  as 
plausible  or  as  absurd  as  another,  and  hardly  one  (»!' 
them  capable  of  being  proved  or  disproved.  I  con- 
cluded to  spread  them  all  before  my  readers,  not  as 
of  any  intrinsic  value,  but  merely  as  curiosities;  and 
this  1  did  in  the  opening  chapter  of  volume  v.  of  tliu 
Native  Ilacc.s. 

Meanwhile  indexers  were  constantly  coming  and 
going,  attempting  and  failing.  After  trying  one  <^v 
two  hundred  of  the  many  applicants  who  presented 
themselves,  and  securing  little  more  than  a  dozi  n 
capable  of  doing  the  worJi,  I  concluded  to  try  no  moiv, 
unless  it  should  bo  some  one  manifesting  mai'lccd 
.'.bility,  but  let  those  already  engaged  continue  until 
the  index  was  iinished.  Nine  tenths  of  the  a])[)li- 
cants  were  totally  unfit  for  the  work,  thouu'h  tlu\" 
professed  to  be  able,  like  Pythagoras,  to  write  on  tln' 
moon  and  in  as  many  languages  as  Pantagruel  could 
speak. 

The  fact  is  it  operated  too  severely  against  mo. 
First,  the  applicant  expected  pay  for  his  time,  whctlic  r 
he  succeeded  or  not;  secondly,  no  inconsiderable  ])oi- 
tion  of  the  time  of  the  best  indexers  was  spent  in 
teaching  the  new-comers;  and  thirdly,  those  who  at- 
tempted and  failed  were  sure  to  be  dissatisfied  and 
charge  the  cause  of  failure  to  any  one  but  themseh ' 


,  C!3. 


CARTOGRAPHY  OF  THE  PACIFIC  COAST. 


571 


During  the  first  half  of  1873  work  continued  about 
as  hitherto.  Mr  Oak  spent  some  weeks  on  antiqui- 
ties, but  was  occupied  a  good  portion  of  the  time 
on  early  voyages.  All  this  time  I  was  writing  on 
northern  Indian  matter,  giving  out  the  notes  on  the 
southern  divisions  to  others  to  go  over  the  field  again 
jind  take  out  additional  notes. 

While  the  subject  of  early  voyages  was  under  my 
notice  I  felt  the  necessity  of  a  more  perfect  knowl- 
edge of  earl}'  maps.  Directing  Goldschmidt  to  lay 
( lilt  all  cosmographies,  collections  of  voyages,  or  other 
books  containing  early  maps,  also  atlases  oi'  facsimiles^ 
and  single  maps,  together  wo  went  over  the  entire 
licld.  Beginning  with  the  earliest  map,  we  first  wrote 
ji  description  of  it,  stating  by  whom  and  when  it  was 
<hawn,  and  what  it  purported  to  be.  Then  from  some 
])oint,  usuall}'  the  isthmus  of  Panama,  we  started, 
and,  following  the  coast,  wrote  on  foolscap  paper  the 
name  of  each  place,  with  remarks  on  its  spelling,  its 
location,  and  other  points,  marking  also  at  the  top 
of  the  page  the  name,  and  taking  usually  one  page 
for  every  place.  Every  geographical  name  and  loca- 
tion, great  and  small,  which  we  could  find  on  any 
early  map  was  thus  entered,  together  Avith  the  title 
of  the  map  or  source  of  information.  From  the 
next  map  we  would  take  new  information  respecting 
previous  names,  and  also  new  names.  After  thus 
1  raining  Goldschmidt  I  left  him  to  complete  the  task, 
and  when  he  had  thus  gone  over  all  our  maps  wo 
lound  before  us  all  information  on  each  place  that 
could  be  derived  from  maps.  Several  months  were 
thus  occupied,  and  when  the  manuscript  was  bound 
in  three  volumes  and  lettered,  we  found  added  to  the 
liKrary  a  Cartography  of  the  Pacific  Coast,  unique 
an<l  invaluable  in  tracing  the  early  history  and  prog- 
ress of  discovery. 

The  collection  of  documents  obtained  from  Judge 
Hayes  was  gone  over  by  D'Arcy,  and  the  loose 
l)apers  were  pasted  in  his  scrap-books.      The  judge 


n 


'}     :  h 


r»72 


FURTHER  LIBRARY  DETAIL. 


il 


had  a  way  of  doing  things  pccuHar  to  himself,  and  I 
was  obhged  to  follow  him  so  far  as  his  documents 
were  concerned.  For  scrap-books  he  cut  a  portion  of 
the  leaves  out  of  congressional  reports,  and  journals 
sent  free  by  congressmen  to  their  constituents.  His 
scraps  were  then  pasted  one  against  another  and  at- 
tached to  the  stubs  of  these  books  accordinij  to  sub- 
jcct.  This  collection  was  an  olla  podrlda  of  southern 
Californian  knowledcre. 


A  fire  wliich  broke  out  in  November  1873  in  the 
basement  of  the  western  side  '^f  the  building  seemed 
likely  for  a  moment  suddenly  to  terminate  all  our 
labors.  At  one  time  there  appeared  not  one  chance  in 
ten  that  tlie  building  or  its  contents  would  bo  saved ;  but 
thanks  to  a  prompt  and  efficient  fire  department,  the 
flames  were  extinguished,  with  a  loss  of  twenty-five 
thousand  dollars  only  to  the  insurance  companies.  The 
time  was  about  half-past  five  in  the  evening.  I  had 
left  the  library,  but  my  assistants  were  seated  at 
their  tables  writing.  A  thick  black  smoke,  which  rose 
suddenly  and  filled  the  room,  was  the  first  intimation 
they  had  of  the  fire.  To  have  saved  anything  in  case 
the  fire  had  reached  tliem  would  have  been  out  of 
the  question.  They  were  so  blinded  by  the  smoke 
that  they  dared  not  trust  themselves  to  the  stairs, 
and  it  was  wnth  difficulty  they  groped  their  way  to 
a  ladder  at  one  side  of  the  room,  which  led  to  the 
roof,  by  wliich  means  they  mounted  and  emerged 
into  tlie  open  air.  In  case  the  building  had  burned, 
their  escape  would  have  been  uncertain.  No  damage; 
was  done  to  the  library,  and  all  were  at  their  places 
next  morning;  but  it  came  home  to  me  more  vividly 
than  ever  before,  the  uncertainty,  not  to  say  vanity, 
of  earthly  things.  Had  those  flames  been  given  five 
minutes  more,  the  Bancroft  Library,  with  the  Ban- 
croft business,  would  have  been  swept  from  the  face 
of  earth;  the  lore  within  would  have  been  lost  to 
the  world,  and  with   it  mankind  would  have  been 


RISK  OF  FIRE. 


573 


spared  the  infliction  of  the  printed  volumes  which 
followed.  Thus  would  have  ended  all  my  literary  at- 
tempts, and  I  should  probably  have  idled  my  time  in 
Europe  for  the  remainder  of  my  days.  Five  minutes 
more  and  that  fire  would  have  saved  me  much  trouble. 
In  the  burninj^  of  the  library,  great  as  would  have 
been  my  loss,  that  of  posterity  would  have  been 
^^^reater.  Anaxagoras,  driven  from  Athens,  exclaimetl, 
"  It  is  not  I  who  lose  the  Athenians,  but  the  Athe- 
nians who  lose  me."  So  I  might  say  without  egotism 
of  the  literary  treasures  I  had  gathered;  their  loss 
would  have  been  not  so  much  mine  as  California's; 
for  in  many  respects,  for  example,  in  respect  to  time, 
ease,  pleasure,  health,  length  of  days,  and  money,  I 
should  have  been  the  gainer. 

In  regard  to  the  risk  of  fire,  as  my  writings  in- 
creased, and  the  manuscripts  in  my  room  represented 
more  and  more  the  years  of  my  life  and  the  wearing 
away  of  my  brain,  I  deemed  it  wise  and  prudent  to 
liave  copies  made  of  all  that  had  been  and  was  to  bo 
written.  Since  it  would  Lave  been  premature  to 
begin  printing  at  this  time,  I  called  in  copyists, 
about  twenty,  who  in  three  or  four  months  trans- 
cribed in  copying  ink  all  that  I  had  written;  from 
this  a  second  copy  was  made  by  means  of  a  copying- 
press.  This  performance  completed,  I  sent  one  copy 
to  my  house,  one  copy  to  Oakville,  and  kept  the 
original  in  the  library;  then  I  went  to  sleep  o'  nights 
defying  the  elements  or  any  of  their  actions. 

In  December  1873,  with  Goldschmidt's  assistance, 
I  made  a  thorough  investigation  of  aboriginal  lan- 
guages on  this  coast.  The  subject  was  a  somewhat 
difficult  one  to  manage,  dialects  and  aflfinities  running, 
us  they  do,  hither  and  thither  over  the  country,  but 
I  finally  satisfied  myself  that  the  plan  of  treating  it 
<^riginally  adopted  was  not  the  proper  one.  The  result 
A\as  that  Goldschmidt  was  obliged  to  go  over  the  entire 
field  again,  and  re-arrange  and  add  to  the  subject- 
matter  before  I  would  attempt  the  writing  of  it. 


m 


574 


FURTHER  LIBRARY  DETAIL. 


Parts  of  the  work  seemed  at  times  to  proceed 
slowly.  The  mytholoj]fy  dragged  as  though  it  never 
would  have  an  end.  The  temptation  to  shirk,  on  the 
part  of  certain  of  my  assistants,  was  too  great  to  bi; 
resisted.  The  system  of  note-taking,  which  was  then 
mucli  furthcrfrom  perfection  than  subsequently,  tended 
to  this  among  the  unscrupulous.  With  one  or  two 
years'  work  before  him,  abstracting  material  acconl- 
ing  to  subject  instead  of  by  the  book,  tended  in  sonni 
instances  to  laxity  and  laziness  on  the  part  of  tho 
note-taker.  Any  one  so  clioosing,  in  taking  out  notes 
on  a  given  subject  with  the  view  of  making  his  sub- 
ject complete,  and  at  the  same  time  not  duplicatiii'L,^ 
liis  notes,  could  plant  himself  in  the  midst  of  his 
work  and  there  remain,  bidding  me  defiance;  for  if 
I  discharged  him,  as  under  ordinary  circumstances  T 
should  have  done,  it  would  be  at  the  loss  perhaps 
of  six  months'  or  a  year's  time.  This  was  well  un- 
derstood, and  some  took  advantage  of  it.  But  such 
I  discharged  as  soon  as  that  particular  piece  of  work 
was  done.  Thus  it  always  is:  those  whose  integrity 
cannot  withstand  every  influence  drawing  them  from 
duty  are  sure  sooner  or  later  to  be  dismissed  from 
every  well  ordered  work. 

No  little  care  was  required  to  keep  in  order  the 
files  of  newspapers.  As  there  were  so  many  of  tlicm, 
I  did  not  attempt  to  keep  complete  more  than 
the  leading  journals  on  the  coast.  Many  couiitiv 
editors  sent  the  libnirv  their  journals  fjratuitouslv. 
My  thanks  are  in  ne  the  loss  due  them  because  in 
this  they  showed  ;  high-minded  sagacity;  for  should 
their  own  files  be  'estroyed  by  fire,  as  is  too  oftiu 
the  case,  it  is  coi  enient  to  know  of  another  iilf 
to  which  they  ma}  have  free  access.  No  kind  "f 
literature  goes  out  >  i  existence  so  quickly  as  a  n(nvs- 
paper;  and  of  booko  it  is  said  that  the  rarest  arc 
those  which  have  been  the  most  popular.  Collier  n - 
marks  in  his  introduction  to  the  Pranks  of  Iiobrn 
Good/ellow,  "  The  more  frequent  the  copies  originally 


FILES  OF  NEWSPAPERS. 


rt:n 


in  circulation,  the  fewer  generally  are  those  which 
have  come  clown  to  us." 

My  chief  source  of  newspaper  supply  was  from  tlio 
public  libraries  and  advertising  agencies  of  San  Fran- 
(;isco.  To  the  latter  were  sent  all  interior  journals, 
and  by  arrangement  with  the  agents  these  were  kept 
for  me.  They  amounted  to  several  wagon-loads  annu- 
ally. Once  or  twice  a  year  I  sent  for  them,  and  out 
of  them  completed  my  files  as  far  as  possible.  In  a 
large  record-book  was  kept  an  account  of  these  files, 
the  name  of  each  journal  being  entered  on  a  page  an(l 
indexed,  the  numbers  on  the  shelves  being  entered,  so 
that  by  the  book  might  be  ascertained  what  were  in 
the  library  and  what  were  lacking.  In  this  manner 
some  fifty  or  sixty  thousand  newspapers  were  added 
to  the  library  annually. 

The  task  of  indexing  the  books  was  so  severe,  that 
at  one  time  it  seemed  doubtful  if  ever  the  newspapers 
would  be  indexed.  But  when  it  became  clearly  evi- 
dent that  history  needed  the  information  therein  con- 
taincd,twentv  more  new  m^n  were  oncfaged  and  drilled 
to  the  task.  I  sometimes  became  impatient  over  what 
seemed  slow  progress,  yet,  buying  another  wagon-load 
of  chairs  and  tables,  I  would  till  all  available  space 
with  new  laborers,  all  such  work  being  afterward 
tested  by  the  most  reliable  persons.  For  the  time 
covered  by  them,  there  is  no  better  historic  evidence 
than  several  files  of  contemporaneous  newspapers, 
bitterly  opposing  eacli  other  as  is  commonly  the  case. 

The  leading  journals  of  the  United  States,  ]\[exieo, 
and  Europe,  before  which  I  wished  to  bring  my  work, 
I  now  noted,  and  directed  Goldscliniidt  to  mail  to  tlieir 
addresses  copies  of  such  descriptions  of  the  library 
as  appeared  in  the  best  papers  here.  Tliese  were  als( » 
sent  to  scholars  in  ditferent  parts,  so  that  they  miglit 
know  what  was  going  on  in  California. 

The  printing  of  volume  ii,,  Native  Races,  was  begun 
in  j\Iay  1874,  and  continued,  sometimes  very  slowly, 
till  February  1875.     Matters  proceeded  during  the 


i 


,1  ■'.'  ''■i' 


576 


FURTHER  LIBRARY  DETAIL. 


M 


i-l, 


last  half  of  1874  about  as  usual.  Between  one 
Saturday  night  and  Monday  morning  mj  engraver 
absconded  to  the  east,  and  the  maps  immediately 
required  I  was  obliged  to  send  to  Philadelpliia  to  be 
engraved. 

While  up  to  my  neck  in  this  most  harassing  of 
labors,  with  three  unfinished  volumes,  embracing  sev- 
eral main  divisions  each,  in  the  hands  of  the  [)rintci', 
a  proposition  came  from  the  ])roprietor  of  thcOrei-laiul 
Mont /ill/  to  two  of  my  men,  Tisher  and  Harcourt,  offer- 
ing them  the  editorship  of  that  journal,  with  larger 
pay  than  I  could  afford  to  give. 

The  young  men  behaved  very  well  about  it.  They 
innnediately  informed  me  of  the  offer,  asked  me  to 
advise  them  what  "^hey  should  do,  and  assured  me 
they  would  not  accept  unless  with  my  approbation. 
Although  they  were  deep  in  my  work,  although  I 
must  lose  in  a  great  measure  the  results  of  their  last 
year's  training,  and  although  I  should  have  to  teach 
new  men  and  delay  publication,  yet  I  did  not  hesitate. 
I  told  them  to  go:  the  pay  was  better,  the  position 
was  more  prominent,  and  their  work  would  be  lighter. 

I  do  not  recollect  ever  to  have  allowed  my  interests 
to  stand  in  the  way  of  the  advancement  of  any  young 
man  in  my  service.  Whenever  my  advice  has  been 
asked,  remembering  the  time  when  I  was  a  young- 
man  seeking  a  start,  I  have  set  myself  aside,  and  havo 
given  what  I  believed  to  be  disinterested  advice,  feul- 
ing  that  in  case  of  a  sacrifice  I  could  better  afford 
it  than  my  clerk.  I  could  not  but  notice,  howevei', 
that,  nine  times  in  ten,  wdicn  a  young  man  left  me  it 
was  not  to  better  his  fortune.  If  he  began  business 
on  his  own  account,  he  faih'd;  if  he  accepted  another 
situation  at  higlicr  salary,  his  employer  failed. 

So  I  told  Harcourt  and  Fisher  not  to  let  me  stanil 
in  their  way.  They  accepted  the  position,  but  oflerod 
to  give  me  part  of  their  time  and  complete  their  note- 
taking  up  to  a  certain  point;  but  so  slowly  had  Ibo 
work  proceeded  when  their  whole  time  was  devoted  to 


A  HISTORICAL  SOCIETY. 


677 


it,  that  I  had  no  faith  in  pieces  of  time  and  spasms  of 
attention.  The  best  brains  of  the  best  men  were  poor 
enough  for  me,  and  I  wanted  no  secondary  interest  or 
efforts. 

The  habihty  at  any  moment  to  be  called  to  servo 
on  a  jury  was  a  source  of  no  little  annoyance  to  mc. 
To  break  away  from  my  work  and  dance  attendance 
on  a  judge,  with  nerves  unstrung  to  sit  in  the  foul 
atmosphere  of  a  court-room  and  listen  to  the  wran- 
,iL,^lings  of  lawyers,  was  a  severe  penalty  for  the  ques- 
tionable privilege  of  squeezing  in  a  vote  between 
those  of  a  neecro  and  an  Irishman  for  some  demaijoijue 
on  election-day.  I  cannot  longer  halloo  myself  hoarse 
in  July  because  I  may  so  vote  in  October.  TLc  San 
Francisco  judges,  however,  were  quite  lenient,  nearly 
always  excusing  mc.  To  sit  as  juryman  for  a  week 
unnerved  mc  for  a  month.  I  could  not  take  up  my 
work  where  I  had  left  it  and  go  on  as  if  nothing 
had  happened.  Besides  actual  time  spent,  there  was 
always  a  severe  loss.  I  felt  safest  when  in  the  countrj'', 
away  from  the  reach  of  the  sheriff.  Tho  judges  in 
tiuio  came  to  understand  this,  and  ceased  altogether 
to  demand  of  me  this  senseless  service. 

In  1875  I  declined  the  republican  nomination  for 
member  of  congress.  There  were  ten  thousand  ready 
to  serve  their  country  where  there  was  not  one  to  do 
my  work  in  case  I  should  abandon  it.  In  ^larch 
lb7G  Mr  John  S.  Hittell  came  to  the  library  and 
asked  permission  to  propose  my  name  as  honorary 
mc;uiber  of  the  Society  of  California  pioneers.  Tho 
iiiks  of  the  society  were  such  that  none  might  be  re- 
('oi\('d  as  regular  members  who  reached  this  country 
for  the  first  time  after  the  31st  of  December  1849. 
Thcic  was  no  historical  society,  so  called,  in  San  Fran- 
cisco, and  Mr  Hittell's  wish  was  to  unite  with  the 
pioneer  association  the  historical  element  of  the  com- 
munity, so  that  the  pioneers'  society  might  be  tho 
iiistorical  society  as  well.    As  the  date  of  one's  arrival 

Lnr.  IND.    37 


i  'J 


:,J 


II 


578 


FURTHER  LIBRARY  DETAIL. 


in  a  country  is  not  always  ffovorned  by  one's  love  of 
literature  and  antiquity,  so  love  of  literature  does  not 
always  flow  from  early  arrivals.  Hence  it  was  deeniod 
advisable  to  attacli  by  means  of  honorary  membei- 
sliip  the  desired  element,  which  could  not  be  reachcl 
in  the  ordinary  way  under  the  constitution  and  by- 
laws except  at  the  risk  of  interferincf  with  certain  <jifts 
and  bequests. 

While  I  fully  appreciated  the  motive,  and  was 
duly  grateful  for  the  honor  conferred,  I  was  unable 
to  perceive  how  any  alliance,  even  in  mere  name  or 
imagination,  could  be  formed  which  would  be  of  the 
slightest  benefit  to  them  or  to  me.  Work  like  miiu; 
never  yet  was  done  by  a  government  or  a  society. 
No  body  of  men  has  ever  yet  been  found  who  would 
spc'.id  both  the  time  and  money  requisite,  laboring  ii 
lifetime  with  the  unity  of  purpose  of  a  single  miiul. 
A  monarch  reigning  for  life  might  prosecute  such  a 
work  at  the  public  expense,  were  he  so  disposed,  l)nt 
where  heads  of  governments  rule  in  quick  succession, 
and  every  legislative  body  undoes  what  was  done  l>y 
its  predecessor,  there  is  not  much  hope  of  public  liti '  - 
ary  accomplishments. 

Many  letters  I  received  requesting  information  cii 
every  conceivable  topic.  If  I  had  establisliod  ar. 
agency  on  the  Pacific  coast  for  the  distribution  <'t' 
general  knowledge,  I  should  have  felt  flattered  by  my 
success  ;  but  as  these  letters  drew  heavily  on  my  time, 
and  the  labor  I  bestowed  in  complying  with  their  re- 
quests seemed  to  be  poorly  appreciated  and  seldom 
acknowledged,  the  applicant  appearing  only  to  eaic 
about  the  information,  and  not  how  he  obtained  it, 
such  letters  were  not  very  welcome.  Nevertheless,  1 
made  it  a  rule  to  have  them  all  promptly  attended  to, 
trusting  the  next  world  for  returns. 

One  wishes  to  know  all  about  the  wines  of  early  Tal- 
ifornia.  At  which  mission  were  the  first  vines  planted '. 
Where  did  the  cuttings  come  from — Mexico,  Soulii 
America,  or  Spain?    At  which  mission  and  when  was 


COMPLETION  OF  THE    InATIVE  RACES.' 


570 


wine  first  made?  Did  the  padres  make  wine  for  their 
own  use  only,  or  did  tlicy  export  it?  Where  was  ni<ist 
wine  made  in  184G?  Into  whose  hands  fell  the  vine- 
yards? Mr  Lea  of  Philadelphia  desires  material  on  the 
Inquisition  in  Mevlco;  Edward  Everett  Hale  asks  in- 
iormation  concerning  the  introduction  of  the  horse  in 
America.  Another  wants  a  list  of  all  the  medicinal 
herbs.  Mr  Packard  of  Salem,  on  behalf  of  the  United 
States  entomological  commission,  makes  inquiry  re- 
garding the  Spanish  Jesuit  accounts  of  grasshopj)cr 
invasions  in  California;  and  there  were  hundreds  of 
such  queries,  which  I  deemed  it  my  duty  to  answer 
whenever  it  lay  in  my  power. 

To  those  who  best  know  what  it  is  to  make  a  good 
book,  the  rapidity  and  regularity  with  which  the  sev- 
eral volumes  of  my  works  appeared  was  a  source  of 
constant  surprise.  "  Plow  you  have  managed,"  writes 
John  W.  Draper  on  receipt  of  the  fifth  volume  of 
tlie  Native  Race!*,  "  in  so  short  a  time  and  in  so  satis- 
factory a  manner  to  complete  3'our  great  underta!;ing 
is  to  me  very  surprising.  The  commendations  that 
are  contained  in  the  accompanying  panq)hlet  are 
lichly  deserved.  I  endorse  them  all.  And  now  I 
sup|)ose  you  feel  as  Gibbon  says  he  did  on  completing 
his  Decline.  You  know  he  was  occupied  with  it  more 
tlian  twenty  years.  He  felt  as  if  the  occupation  of 
liis  life  was  gone.  But  you  are  far  more  energetic 
than  he.  You  are  only  at  the  beginning  of  your  in- 
tellectual life:  he  was  near  the  close.  You  will  find 
sometliing  more  to  do."  Thus  it  is  ever.  Our  best 
reward  for  having  done  one  work  well  is  that  we 
have  another  given  us  to  do. 

On  the  comjJetion  of  the  Native  Ilaces  Oliver 
Wendell  Holmes  writes:  "I  congratulate  you  on  put- 
ting the  last  stone  upon  this  pyramid  you  have  reared. 
y<n-  truly  it  is  a  macpmm  opus,  and  the  accomplish- 
nicnt  of  it  as  an  episode  in  one  man's  life  is  most 
remarkable.  Nt)thing  but  a  perfect  organization  of 
nil  innnensG  literary  workshop  could  have  oftected  so 


■fiH 

.'li 


11 

•i  1 


580 


FIJRTHER  LIBRARY  DETAIL. 


much  within  so  Hmited  a  time.  You  have  found  out 
the  two  great  secrets  of  the  division  of  labor  and  the 
union  of  its  results.  The  last  volume  requires  rather 
a  robust  reader;  but  the  political  history  of  the  ijcs 
and  the  itls  is  a  new  chapter,  I  think,  to  most  of  those 
who  consider  themselves  historical  scholars.  All  the 
world,  and  especially  all  the  American  world,  will 
thank  you  for  this  noble  addition  to  its  literary  treas- 
ures." 


I 


1 


Such  are  some  of  the  details  of  my  earlier  labors. 
But  above  all,  and  beyond  all,  in  breadth  of  scope  and 
in  detail,  was  the  history  and  the  workings  of  it.  It 
was  a  labor  beside  which  the  quarter-century  appli- 
cation to  business,  and  the  Native  Races  with  its  lifty 
years  of  creative  work  upon  it,  sink  into  insignificance; 
and  it  was,  perhaps,  the  most  extensive  effort  ever 
undertaken  by  a  private  individual  for  historical  pur- 
poses. 

I  thought  before  this  I  had  accomplished  some- 
thing in  life,  with  my  mercantile  and  manufacturing 
establishments  in  full  and  successful  operation,  antl  a 
literary  reputation  world-wide  and  most  fluttering.  I 
thought  I  knew  what  heavy  undertakings  were,  and 
what  it  was  out  of  no  very  great  means  to  accomplish 
great  results ;  but  all  seemed  Lilliputian  in  comparison 
with  the  seas  of  performance  upon  which  I  now  found 
myself  embarked. 

The  15th  of  October  1875  saw  the  Native  Haccs 
completed;  but  long  before  this,  note-taking  on  the 
History  of  the  Pacijio  States  had  been  begun  on  tlio 
plan  developed  while  I  wrote  several  parts  of  this 
liistory  years  before,  and  perfected  by  the  experiences 
gathered  in  preparing  the  Native  Races.  As  I  have 
before  remarked,  my  purpose  in  this  latter  effort  was 
to  take  up  the  same  territory  covered  by  the  Native 
Races,  and  continue  its  history  from  the  coming  of  tlio 
Europeans.  This  would  be  the  history  proper  of 
the  couptry,  the  Native  Races  being  in  reality  a  do- 


THE  HISTORY. 


581 


scription  of  the  aborigines;  yet  the  one  followed  tlic 
other  in  natural  sequence.  Without  the  Native  Races 
the  history  would  be  incomplete,  could  not,  indeed, 
bo  properly  written;  while  the  history  is  in  truth 
but  a  continuation  of  the  Native  Races. 

It  is  an  immense  territory,  this  western  half  of 
North  America;  it  was  a  weighty  responsibility, 
at  least  I  felt  it  to  be  such,  to  lay  the  foundations 
of  history,  for  all  time,  for  this  one  twelfth  part  of  the 
world.  It  seemed  to  me  that  I  stood  very  near  to 
the  beginning  of  a  mighty  train  of  events  which  should 
last  to  the  end  of  time;  that  this  beginning,  now  so 
clear  to  me,  would  soon  become  dim,  become  more  and 
inorc  indistinct  as  the  centuries  passed  by;  and  though 
it  is  impossible  for  the  history  of  a  civilized  nation  ever 
to  drop  wholly  out  of  existence  while  the  printing- 
))rcss  continues  to  move,  yet  much  would  be  lost  and 
innumerable  questions  would  arise,  then  impossible 
of  solution,  but  which  might  now  be  easily  settled. 
Large  as  my  conceptions  were  of  the  magnitude  of 
this  labor,  and  with  all  my  business  and  literary  ox- 
purience,  here  again,  as  thrice  before  in  these  liistori- 
cal  efforts,  once  in  the  collecting  of  the  library,  once 
after  completing  the  first  writing  of  the  first  parts  of 
Miy  history,  and  once  in  the  writing  of  the  Native 
Races,  I  had  no  adequate  idea  of  the  extent  of  the 
work  before  I  engaged  in  it. 

Immediately  the  Native  Races  was  finished,  all  not 
yet  so  engaged  were  set  at  work  taking  out  notes  for 
tlio  history.  A  much  more  perfect  system  was  em- 
]>lovcd  in  abstracting  this  material  than  had  been 
used  m  any  of  the  former  work.  I  do  not  mean  to 
l)t»ast,  or  if  I  do,  it  is  with  that  godly  boasting  which 
the  cause  makes  pardonable;  and  further,  it  is  not  of 
my.'- elf  but  of  my  assistants  I  herein  boast,  for  I  took 
out  m\j  the  notes  for  the  first  parts  of  my  history 
wirh  my  own  hands;  I  say,  then,  without  unpardon- 
able boasting,  that  in  my  opinion  there  never  in  the 


,«i 


S82 


FURTHER  LIBRARY  DETAIL. 


history  of  literature  was  performed  so  consummate 
a  feat  as  the  g:atherin<j:,  abstractinjj  and  arranj^inuf  of 
the  material  for  this  H'lstorij  of  the  Pacijic  States. 

It  was  reuarded  as  a  tjreat  achievement  successfully 
to  handle  twelve  hundred  authorities  and  compress 
their  contents  into  five  volumes,  presenting'  the  list  in 
the  first  volume  of  the  Native  Races.  Still  more  re- 
markable was  it  from  two  thousand  authorities  to 
write  the  three  volumes  of  the  llistory  of  Ceiitnil 
America.  But  when  on  making  the  list  of  authori- 
ties for  the  six  volumes  of  the  IIlsto)\i/  <f  Mexico  I 
found  there  were  ten  thousand,  I  was  literally  over- 
whelmed. They  were  all  employed,  in  one  way  or 
another,  every  one  of  them,  in  writing  the  histoiy, 
but  I  could  not  afford  the  space  to  print  all  the  titles, 
as  was  my  custom.  They  would  occupy  neai-ly  half 
a  volume.  It  was  finally  resolved  that,  referring  tlio 
reader  to  the  list  of  authorities  printed  in  the  lirst 
V(  hunes  of  Central  America  and  the  North  Mexican 
States,  it  must  suffice  to  print  only  the  more  impor- 
tant ones  remaining,  and  to  state  clearly  the  omission 
and  the  cause  at  the  head  of  the  list. 

The  task  of  making  references  as  well  as  tliat 
of  taking  out  material  was  equivalent  to  five  tiiiioH 
the  labor  of  writing;  so  that  at  this  work,  and  pic- 
i>aiiiiijf  the  material  in  the  rough,  I  found  no  difficultv 
in  keeping  employed  fifteen  to  tw'cnty  persons;  foi- 
exam[)le,  in  taking  out  the  material  for  California 
hist<Hy  alone,  eight  men  were  occupied  for  six  yen  is; 
for  making  the  references,  merely,  for  the  Illston/  "f 
Mexico,  without  taking  out  any  of  the  required  in- 
formation, five  men  were  steadily  employed  I'oi'  a 
[)eriod  of  ten  years.  Counting  those  engaged  on  such 
work  as  indexing  newspapers,  epitomizing  arcluNes, 
and  copying  manuscript,  and  I  have  had  as  many  as 
tifty  men  engaged  in  library  detail  at  one  time. 


For  Sc^'cral   reasons   I    determined   to  beg  in  tliii^ 
second   resumption   of  the   history   with    California; 


HISTORY  OF  CALIFORNIA. 


583 


that  is  to  say,  althougli  the  work  was  to  ho  a  liistory 
of  the  Paoilic  States  fVoiii  the  coining  of  the  Euro- 
peans, covering  the  same  territory  enihraced  by  the 
Xative  Races,  and  would  of  chronological  necessity 
hegin  with  its  southern  extremity,  anil  follow  the 
natural  order  of  discovery  and  conquest  northward, 
yet  I  deemed  it  best,  all  things  considered,  to  i-esume 
in  the  middle  of  the  work  rather  than  where  I  left  oft', 
for  tlie  following  reasons:  First,  of  the  central  division 
of  the  subject,  embracing  northern  Mexico,  Arizona, 
(Adifornia,  Nevada,  and  Utah,  following  the  natural 
channels  of  history  from  the  conquest  of  Cortes,  more 
[)articularly  of  California,  the  centre  of  their  central 
division,  I  had  in  my  possession  a  great  mass  of  orig- 
inal matter,  more,  proportionately,  than  of  the  states 
lvin<>;  to  the  south  of  tlie  citv  of  Mexico.  Tliis  ma- 
terial  consisted  of  unpublished  manuscript  histories 
and  original  documents  wliich  had  lain  hidden  throuoh- 
out  the  entire  progress  of  the  country,  and  which  had 
been  by  me,  little  by  little,  unearthed,  assorted,  de- 
ri[>hered,  and  i)ut  in  order  for  historical  use;  material 
of  a  value  which  could  not  be  measured  by  money, 
for  if  once  lost  it  never  could  be  replaced.  If  lost,  it 
was  so  much  knowledge  dropped  out  of  existence, 
it  was  so  much  of  human  experience  withheld  from 
the  general  storehouse  of  human  experiences;  and  the 
loss  would  remain  a  loss  throughout  all  time. 

Moreover,  there  was  of  this  more,  proportionately, 
than  had  ever  been  collected  about  any  other  country; 
iiujre  of  oriii'inal  and  uiuised  material  for  the  historv 
of  California  than  had  ever  before  been  collected  antl 
preserved  of  any  country  of  like  extent,  population, 
and  ai;e.  The  richness  of  this  material  consisted  in 
the  })rofusion  of  documentary  and  pei'sonal  evidence 
jilaced  side  by  side;  letters,  oflicial  pa[)ei's,  and  mis- 
sionary records,  united  with  personal  narratives,  and 
complete  histories  of  epochs  and  localities  dictated 
by  eye-witnesses,  and  written  out  by  men  employed  by 
me,  and  solely  for  my  history. 


m ! 


i-r  Hi 


'ii'  'ill 


!i: 


664 


FURTHER  LIBRARY  DETAIL. 


Day  by  day  and  year  by  year  I  had  seen  these 
priceless  treasures  accumulate  until  the  thought  of 
their  destruction  by  fire  became  unendurable  to  me, 
and  I  determined,  long  before  the  Native  Races  was 
finished,  that  to  place  at  least  the  substance  of  this  ma- 
terial beyond  the  peradventure  of  destruction  should 
be  my  very  first  work.  As  I  could  not  then  erect  a 
detached  fire-proof  building  for  my  library,  the  next 
most  direct  and  practical  method  was  to  melt  and 
draw  off  from  the  mass  the  metal  of  historic  lore, 
and  recast  it  into  permanent  form,  in  which  it  miglit 
be  preserved  in  some  place  apart  from  the  original 
material. 

To  save  the  contents  of  this  invaluable  material, 
then,  was  my  first  consideration.  This  saved,  and  all 
my  library  swept  away,  I  might  possibly,  in  some 
way,  by  the  aid  of  the  archives  of  Mexico  and  the 
libraries  of  America  and  Europe,  complete  my  history ; 
but  the  California  material  once  lost,  there  was  an  end 
to  all  my  labors. 

Another  reason  why  I  would  write  the  central  part 
of  the  History  of  the  Pacific  States  first  was  that  I  then 
found  myself  at  the  head  of  a  corps  of  thoroughly  com- 
petent and  trained  assistants,  very  different  in  points 
of  knowledge  and  ability  from  the  untutored  and  un- 
skilled workmen  who  assisted  me  at  the  be<?innin!]f  of 
these  undertakings.  They,  as  well  as  I,  had  learned 
much,  had  gained  much  experience  in  abstracting  ma- 
terial for  history,  and  in  printing  and  publishing  books. 

There  were  several  among  my  assistants  who  could 
now  take  a  book  or  a  manuscript,  no  matter  how  ob- 
literated or  in  what  language,  and  decipher  it,  and 
placing  themselves  at  their  desks  could  intelligently, 
correctly,  systematically,  and  expeditiously  take  out  in 
the  form  of  notes  all  the  historical  matter  the  vohune 
contained,  knowing  that  the  work  was  properly  done, 
that  it  was  no  experiment  of  which  the  results  might 
liave  to  be  all  thrown  away  and  the  labor  perfornud 
anew.    This  no  one  of  them  was  capable  of  doing  at  first. 


EVER  GROWING  EFFICIENCY. 


685 


They  were  likewise  familiar  with  the  library,  the 
books  and  their  contents,  the  index  and  how  to  use  it, 
the  territory  and  much  of  its  history.  They  knew 
better  what  to  take  out ;  and  although  the  information 
to  be  extracted  was  as  undefinable  as  ever,  and  tht; 
subject-matter  as  intricate,  the  note-taking  was  much 
njore  systematic  and  coniplete.  For  five  years  our 
minds  had  been  dwellinfj  on  these  thinofs,  and  on  little 
else.  Our  whole  intellectual  being  had,  during  these 
years,  become  saturated  with  the  subject ;  and  although 
work  was  now  to  be  taken  up  in  a  new  form,  and  con- 
(Uicted  on  a  higher  plane,  and  brought  yet  nearer 
to  perfect  completion  than  any  before,  I  felt  adequate  to 
the  task.  Three  or  five  years  hence  I  might  or  might 
not  have  as  good  men  in  the  library.  Death  and 
disagreements  are  insc})arable  from  humanity,  and  yet 
of  the  latter  I  had  seldom  experienced  one  in  connec- 
tion with  my  literary  labors.  I  believe  I  never  have 
liad  a  serious  misunderstanding  with  any  one  of  my 
regular  assistants.  We  worked  together  as  friends, 
side  by  side,  as  in  one  common  interest.  This  central 
l)art  of  my  subject  I  regarded,  I  will  not  say  as  the 
most  important  part,  for  each  part  was  equally  im- 
jtortant,  but  it  was  the  most  difficult  part,  the  most 
intricate  and  laborious  part,  and  with  competent  and 
trained  assistants  it  was  the  part  which  I  could  most 
thoroughly  perform,  and  most  perfectly  finish.  This 
was  to  be  the  crowning  effort  of  these  literary  achieve- 
ments; let  me  do  it,  I  said,  while  I  am  able. 

The  library  was  moved  to  Valencia  street  the  9th 
of  October  1881,  and  type-setting  was  begun  on  the 
history  the  following  day.  Although  opposed  in  this 
move  by  several  of  my  friends,  T  persisted.  The  truth 
is,  I  was  becoming  fearful  lest  it  would  never  be  put 
into  type;  lest  I  should  not  live  to  complete  the  work, 
and  I  was  determined  to  do  what  I  could  in  that 
(Hrcction  while  life  lasted.  My  health  at  this  time 
was  poorer  than  ever  before,  and  my  nerves  were  by 


h 


lit 


0M 


FURTHER  LIBRARY  DETAIL. 


no  means  quieted  by  reading  one  day  an  article  on  tlio 
business,  submitted  to  me  by  Mr  Hittell  for  his  Co>,i- 
inerce  and  Industn'cs,  in  which  lie  took  occasion  to 
remai'k  of  my  literary  undertakings:  "The  scale  on 
which  he  has  commenced  his  work  is  so  comprelicn- 
sive  that  it  is  doubtful  whether  he  will  be  able  to 
complete  it  even  if  he  should  reach  the  age  of  three; 
score  and  ten,  with  continuous  i)rosj)erity  and  good 
health."  I  thereuj)on  resolved  to  complete  it,  to  post- 
pone dying  until  this  work  was  done,  and  I  immedi- 
ately ordered  a  dozen  compositors  to  be  put  uj)()U 
the  manuscript.  Matter  equivalent  to  fifteen  volumes 
was  then  in  manuscript,  and  three  fourths  of  the  work 
on  the  remainder  had  been  accomplished  in  the  note- 
taking.  I  gave  out,  first,  volume  i.  Central  America, 
and  then  volume  i.  Ilistorij  of  Mexico,  both  of  which 
had  been  written  long  years  before,  and  rewritten; 
after  that  I  gave  to  the  i)rinters  whatever  part  of  the 
work  appeared  convenient,  so  that  they  fre(juently 
had  several  volumes  in  hand  at  one  time.  The  utmost 
care  was  exercised  in  revising,  rewriting,  comparing, 
and  verifying,  as  the  work  was  passed  to  press,  four 
or  five  persons  devoting  their  time  altogether  or  in 
part  to  this  woi'k. 

Further  than  this,  not  only  would  1  print,  but  I 
would  publish.  I  had  no  delicacy  now  in  placing  the 
imprint  of  the  firm  on  my  title-pages.  The  MorlJ 
might  call  it  making  merchandise  of  literature  if  they 
chose :  I  knew  it  was  not,  that  is  to  say  in  a  niercenaiy 
sense.  There  was  no  money  in  my  books  to  the  busi- 
ness, hence  the  business  did  not  specially  want  tlicin. 
In  the  publication  of  several  extensive  works  tlic 
house  had  acquh-ed  a  national  reputation,  and  I  was 
convinced  that  it  would  do  better  with  this  series 
of  Pacific  States  histories,  than  any  other  firm.  So 
I  engaged  Mr  Nathan  J.  Stone,  lately  of  Japan 
but  formerly  of  our  house,  a  man  of  marked  ability, 
of  much  experience  in  our  establishment  and  else- 
where, to  devote  himself  to  the  publication  and  sak- 


PPwINTING  AND  PROOF-RE.VDINO. 


£87 


of  iny  books.  Transferring  to  liiiu  tlie  business  con- 
nected therewith,  I  went  on  with  my  writing  more 
vigorously  if  possible  than  before.  I  reijuested  the 
mayor  and  the  governor  to  visit  tlie  library,  inspect 
tlie  work,  and  then  give  me  a  certilicate,  expressing 
tlieir  belief  in  the  completion  of  the  work  as  then 
})roniised,  which  was  at  the  rate  of  throe  or  four  vol- 
umes a  year.  I  took  better  care  of  my  health  than 
l)efore,  determined  to  piece  out  my  life  to  cover  the 
time  I  now  calculated  would  be  required  to  fniish  the 
work.  Lastly  I  revised  my  will  to  provide  the  neces- 
sary funds,  and  ap[)ointed  literary  executors,  so  that 
my  several  books  should  be  completed  and  published 
even  in  the  event  of  my  death.  Strange  inl'atuation, 
past  the  comprehension  of  manl  Of  wliat  avail  this 
terrible  straining,  with  my  body  resolved  to  dust  and 
my  intellect  dissipated  in  thin  air!  One  would  fancy 
the  ])rizo  a  heavenly  dukedom  at  the  least;  but  when 
I  lo(jked  up  into  the  heavens  I  saw  no  dukedom  there. 
Vi)V  all  tliat,  I  would  abridge  my  life  by  twenty  years, 
if  necessary,  to  complete  the  work;  why,  I  cannot  tell. 

After  beginning  printing,  proof-reading  was  again 
in  order.  It  was  a  severe  tax;  that  is,  in  the  way  it 
was  done  in  the  library.  When  the  proofs  came  from 
the  printing-office,  where  they  wore  read  and  revised 
by  an  expert  familiar  with  this  work,  one  cojiy  was 
•iven  to  me,  and  one  eacli  to  Nemos,  Oak,  and  Gihnour. 
The  latter  compared  and  verified  both  subject-matter 
and  references,  comparing  with  original  authorities, 
aiul  placed  the  corrections  of  the  others  with  his 
own  on  one  proof,  when  it  was  returned  to  me.  One 
of  the  others  besides  myself  also  read  the  corrected 
proof  in  pages,  which  were  gone  over  by  the  chief 
proof-reader  for  printers'  errors. 

There  is  something:  extremely  fascinating  to  mc  in 
the  printing  of  a  book.  The  metamorphoses  of  mnid 
intt)  manuscript,  and  manuscript  into  permanent  print; 
the  incarnation  of  ideas,  spreading  your  thoughts  first 


688 


FURTHER  LIBRARY  DET^VIL. 


u[)on  papor  and  then  transfixing^  them  by  the  aid  of 
metal  to  the  printed  page,  where  through  the  ages 
they  may  remain,  display  a  magic  beside  v  hich  tlio 
subtleties  of  Albertus  Magims  were  infantile.  "  ^F. 
Duputel  is  smitten  with  that  amiable  and  enviablo 
passion,  the  love  of  printing  for  private  distribution," 
remarks  Dibdin  in  his  BibUographical  Tour.  Wliat 
this  passion  is  I  never  stop  to  consider.  With  me  I 
think  it  is  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  a  valuable  sonio- 
tiiing  growing  under  my  fingers;  this  and  the  multi- 
j)lying  power  of  the  types.  The  masses  of  mankind 
clothe  with  mysterious  influence  the  unseen  being  wlu; 
commits  his  thought  to  print.  And  living  books  are 
indeed  a  i)ower;  even  those  that  come  and  go  accoui- 
j)lisli  much.  No  book  ever  lived  in  vain;  the  black 
and  white  of  its  pages,  its  pa})er  and  pasteboard,  may 
pass  into  oblivion,  as  all  but  the  sacred  few  wliicli 
spring  from  the  inspiration  of  genius  do  and  should 
do,  yet  the  soul  thereof  never  dies,  but  multi[)lies 
itself  in  entlless  transmigrations  into  other  books  to 
the  end  of  time. 


and 

.'ubitn 

l\rany 

the  coi 

fore 

volume 


During  the  progress  of  the   history  through  tlio 

f)rcss  there  were  many  maps  and  plans  to  be  drawn, 
ocal  and  sectional  maps  to  illustrate  text  or  notes, 
and  sometimes  a  more  general  map  to  accompany  tlic 
volume.  These  were  drawn  as  required,  many  of 
them  by  Mr  Gilmour.  The  several  lists  of  authorities 
quoted  were  prepared  in  the  main  by  jNIr  Benson, 
who  also  assisted  Mr  Gilmour  in  making  an  index  of 
the  several  historical  as  well  a'^  supplementary  sots. 
In  order  to  have  the  use  and  benefit  of  the  indexes 
during  the  progress  of  the  work,  the  several  books  (»r 
sets  were  indexed  on  paper  cards  about  three  b}-  four 
inches,  as  the  pages  appeared  in  type,  and  when  the 
set,  such  as  the  Ilistori/  of  Central  America  or  the 
History  of  Oregon,  was  complete,  the  cards  wcic 
handed  to  the  printer,  who  from  them  put  the  index 
in  type. 


ORDER  OF  PUBLICATION. 


689 


Though  written  early,  the  Tlistory  of  California  was 
not  so  early  to  be  published,  except  the  first  volumes. 
Originally  I  thought  of  the  history  only  as  one  com- 
plete work,  the  volumes  to  be  written  and  published 
ill  chronological  order;  but  later  it  occurred  to  mo 
that  there  was  too  great  a  sweep  of  territory,  climate.^ 
and  governments  too  several  and  diverse,  for  mo 
arbitrarily  to  cement  them  in  one  historical  embrace. 
Afany  persons  would  like  a  history  of  one  or  more  of 
the  countries,  but  would  not  care  for  them  all.  Tliere- 
fore  I  finally  concluded  to  write  and  number  tho 
volumes  territorially,  and  yet  maintain  sucli  chrono- 
logical order  as  I  was  able;  that  is,  I  would  begin  with 
Central  America,  that  part  coming  first  in  order  of 
t  imo,and  bring  the  liistory  of  those  states  down  to  date, 
inimbering  the  volumes  i.,  u.,  and  in.,  History  of  f/ie 
rarijic  Slates,  as  well  as  i.,  ii.,  and  in.,  liistory  of 
Crntnil  America.  The  History  of  the  Pacific  iSlates, 
volume  IV.,  would  be  tiie  History  of  Mexico,  volume 
1.,  and  so  on;  and  the  works  might  then  be  lettered 
mider  both  titles  and  the  purchaser  be  given  his  choice; 
or  lie  might  prefer  to  include  the  Native  Races  and 
(he  supplemental  volumes  under  the  yet  more  general 
i\i\ii  o\'  Bancrofts  Works.  Thus  would  simplicity  and 
uniformity  be  preserved,  and  purchasers  be  satisfied. 
With  this  arrangement  it  would  not  be  necessary  to 
•  onihic  the  order  of  publication  to  the  order  of  num- 
horing,  as  the  volumes  might  very  properly  appear 
chronologically,  which  was,  indeed,  tho  more  natural 
sequence;  and  as  a  matter  of  fact  they  were  so  pub- 
lished. 

Thus  the  History  of  the  Pacific  States  would  com- 
prise a  series  of  histories  each  complete  in  itself;  yet 
the  whole  would  be  one  complete  history,  each  in  the 
requisite  number  of  volumes;  viz.,  the  History  of  Cen- 
tml  America;  the  History  of  Mexico;  the  History  of  the 
North  Mexican  States  and  Texas;  the  History  of  Arizona 
and  New  Mexico;  the  History  of  California;  the  His- 
tory of  Nevada,\Vyoming,  and  Colorado;  the  History  of 


i 


sno 


FURTlirR  LirSRARY  DETAIL. 


I 


I 


L'fah;  thcllisfori/  of  flic  ]\"<n'fhirrsf  Cocmt;  tlic  Ilisfnyi/ 
of  Oregon;  the  Jllstoyij  nf  W(ishui(/ton,  I<h(ho,  ami 
MonUtiui;  tlio  ITistori/  of  Ih'itish  Columhla;  tlio  His- 
torij  of  Alasla.     Tlio  })]iin  was  to  j)ul)lis]i  thi-t'O 


or 


lit 


lour  volumes  a  veai-,  to  bo  issued  sunultaneously  in 
San  Fraiu'isf'o,  New  York,  London,  and  Paris.  In 
reirard  to  the  two  volumes  of  Xovth.  Mexican  States, 
I  should  have  jireferrcdto  include  tlicm  in  t\\Q  Ilistor,/ 
of  3I(\ru'o,  under  the  one  general  title,  llut  thev 
were  in  i'(>ality  a  separate  work,  given  more  in  detail 
than  the  southern  ^Texican  states,  whie-h  were  treated 
from  national  rather  than  from  local  standpoints. 
And  this  fur  s(!vcral  reasons:  they  were  runver,  so 
to  speak,  mitre  native,  less  suhdued,  less  settled  and 
cultivated,  the  ^NFexican  frontici-  being  always  townid 
the  north  and  not  westward,  as  in  the  United  Stales; 
then  they  wwo  nearer  the  United  States,  more  ])ro- 
gressiv(!  than  the  southei'ii  ^Mexican  states,  and  in  tliis 
way  they  woidd  constitute  a  stepping-stone  in  respect 
of  detail  to  the  nations  of  the  south  and  the  states  of 
the  north. 

Another  work  of  the  highest  importance  later 
forced  itself  uj)on  me,  and  took  its  ])laee  among  mv 
labors  as  i)art  of  mv  history.  This  was  tlu^  lixcs  ol' 
those  w1m»  had  made  the  history,  who  had  laid  the 
foundations  of  empin;  on  this  coast  "p(Mi  which  future 
geui'rations  were  forever  to  build.  Thus  far  a  naira- 
tive  projxr  of  events  had  been  givtMi,  while  those  who 
had  [x'llbrnu'd  this  marvellous  work  were  left  in  the 
backgi'ound.  livery  one  felt  that  they  tlesei'Ved  fulKi' 
ti'eatment,  and  after  nuieh  anxious  consideration  of 
the  suhjcM't,  there  was  evolved  in  my  mind  a  separate 
section  of  the  history  under  title  of  (lironieJe^  of  llir. 
Jhiilders  of  the  Comnioiivraltfi,  which  in  a  framework 
of  history  and  industi'ial  i-ecord  gives  to  biography 
the  same  jH'oniintMice  which  in  the  jiistory  proper  i^ 
given  to  the  narrative  of  events. 


THE  NEAIIKST  OF   ASSISTANTS. 


591 


III  addition  to  tlic  liistory  were  tlio  supplcinont.d 
works,  (\il/fonii(i  Piislonil,  ('dlifonud  Jiitcr  Paciila, 
I'opular  Trilnniuh,  J'^-^says  <iinl  Miscdhini/,  and  Lit- 
( mry  Iinlutilrirs,  all  of  which  orew  out  of  tiu;  work 
on  the  hi.story,  and  were  carricil  alon<;'  WiLli  it.  'V\iv. 
first  two  consist  of  material  lei't  ovci-  in  writiiiL?  the 
liistory,  the  cnie  of  Califoinia  under  missionarv  n'ljinic, 
and  the  other  of  (California  during'  the  Hush  times, 
too  lij^ht  an«l  sketchy  for  exact  historical  narra- 
tion, and  yet  more  rcadalde  in  some  i'espe(^ts  than 
the  history  itself.  The  titles  of  the  last  two  siteak 
tor  themselves.      (If  the  thir<l    I    shall  speak  I'urther 


)resenilv 


th 


] 


need  not  mo  mto  di 


tail   1 


ier(>  reu^ardmn' 


their  conc(  ption  and  }»roduclion;  sutlice  it  to  say  that 
tlie  suhjccts  all  came  to  nie  of  thi'Ir  own  aceoid,  and 
tliat  I  wrought  them  out  without  aid  from  any  one, 
tliere  hein^;"  no  notes  to  he;  taken  or  inlormation  to  he 
uathered  and  silted  fuither  than  what  I  was  alth;  to 
accomjilish  myself  wliili;  wi'itiiiL*'  the  histoiy.  And 
yet  1  should  not  say  this.  Much  of  tin;  lahor  on  these 
voliunes  was  performed  at  my  home,  where  was  the 
sweettst  and  most  sympathizin»i'  assistant  a  literary 
(hud^e  ever  had,  constant  in  season  and  out  of  season, 
jialient,  foi'heariny,  encoui'ag'ins^,  clu't'rin^'.  Many  a 
loni;'  day  she  has  lahored   hy  my  si(K',  I'eadini;'  and  re- 


\ismi>';  many  woinaiuy  aspnations  she  has  silenced  i 


il( 


d 


order  to  devote  her  fresh,  l»ii(i\' 


lif 


c\-er  ren'ai'oed  as  a  liiiili  ami  noole  ■  ate'e 


e   to  w 
•t.      ( 


hat 


S1R> 


lO(l 


tliat 


sill 


e  and  our  chinU'en   m<;y   lonjji'   live  to  ^atlu'i 


H'l'ant 


]i]casant  fruits  from  these  ]jiterary  Industries,  ior  1 
suspect  that  in  this  hope  lies  t'le  hidden  and  secret 
spring  that  moves  the  author  in  all  his  efforts. 


1 


CHAPTER   XXIV. 

MY  METHOD  OF  WRITING  HISTORY. 

Tlierc  i3  a  class  of  authors  different  from  those  who  cringe  to  prevalent 
tftstes,  ;in<l  p;inilcr  to  degniding  passions;  men  whom  neither  power  can  in- 
timidate, nor  ilattery  deceive,  nor  wealth  corrupt.  .,-, .     , 

Hegel  says  of  the  Germans:  "  Instead  of  writing 
history,  wc  are  always  heating  our  brains  to  discover 
how  history  ought  to  be  written."  Nor  is  brain- 
beating  fruitless.  Better  never  write  a  word  of  his- 
tory, or  anything  else,  unless  it  be  done  in  the  best 
maimer  possible. 

My  system  of  liistorical  work  requires  a  few  words 
of  explanation,  since  not  a  little  of  the  criticism,  both 
favorable  and  unfavorable,  has  been  founded  on  an 
erroneous  conception  of  its  nature. 

In  order  to  compreliend  clearly  the  error  alluded 
to,  it  is  well  to  note  that  the  composition  of  an  his- 
torical work  involves  labor  of  a  twofold  nature,  tht; 
dividing  line  being  very  clearly  marked.  INIaterial  in 
the  nature  of  evidence  has  first  to  be  accumulated 
and  cl;:.ssified;  subsequently  from  the  evidence  jud la- 
ments have  to  be  formed  and  expressed. 

The  two  divisions  micfht  of  course  be  still  further 
subdivided,  but  such  subdivision  is  not  needed  loi- 
niy  present  purpose.  My  system — if  it  be  worthy 
to  be  termed  a  system  distinct  from  others — of  whieh 
I  have  in  my  different  works  had  somewhat  to  sav, 
and  others  have  said  still  more,  has  no  applic^itioii 
whatever  to  tlie  second  and  final  operation  of  an  liis- 
torian's  task.  Every  author  aims  to  collect  all  possible 


THE  ORDINARY  METHOD. 


503 


evidence  on  the  topic  to  lie  treated,  and  he  acconi- 
jili.shes  his  purpose  by  Avidely  difterent  methods,  of 
which  more  anon;  but  having  once  aceomphshcd  tliat 
primary  object,  in  his  later  work  of  mind  and  pen 
there  is  little  that  is  tangible  in  his  methods  as  dis- 
linguished  from  those  of  another.  He  studies  the 
evidence  profoundly  or  superficially,  according  to  his 
habit  of  study;  forms  his  opinions  more  or  less  wisely, 
according  to  the  strength  of  his  judgment;  and  ex- 
]  tresses  them  in  language  diffuse  or  concise,  forcil)le 
and  graceful,  or  commonplace  and  awkward,  according 
to  his  natural  or  acquired  style. 

The  philosopher,  learned  in  mental  phenomena, 
may  t'lissify  to  his  own  satisfaction  the  minds  and 
'.•■hivi  •  >rkings  of  authors;  the  literary  critic  may 
trim  comparisons  and  broad  generalizations  upon 
style.  There  are  as  many  variations  in  thoughts  as 
tlicre  arc  in  men,  in  style  as  there  are  in  writers; 
but  in  this  purt  of  my  w'ork  I  have  no  peculiar 
system  or  method,  and  I  suppose  that  other  authors 
have  none. 

^Fy  system,  then,  applies  only  to  the  accumulation 
and  arrangement  of  evidence  upon  the  topics  of  which 
I  write,  and  consists  in  the  application  of  business 
methods  and  the  division  of  labor  to  those  ends.  Bv 
its  aid  T  have  iittempted  to  accomplish  in  one  year 
what  \\ould  .-•KMjMi'o  ten  3'ears  by  ordinary  methods; 
ov  on  a,  coiinjli'^^v.'ed  and  extensive  subject  to  collect 
piacticaU\  ail  i he  evidence,  when  by  ordinary  methods 
a  lifL'time  of  toil  would  yield  only  a  part. 

To  illustrate  '^.A  us  suppose  an  industrious  au- 
thor, determined  to  write  the  history  of  California,  at 
the  start  wholly  ignorant  of  his  subject.  lie  easily 
learns  of  a  few  works  on  California,  and  having  pur- 
cliased  them  studies  their  contents,  making  notos  t<i 
aid  his  memory.  His  reading  directs  him  to  other 
litlcs,  and  he  seeks  the  corresponding  books  in  the 
libraries.  ;   -Mic  and  private,  of  the  city  where  he  re- 


.sid 


es. 


Lit.  i 


irch  of  the  shelves  and  catalogues  of 


3e 


004 


MY  :mei  hod  of  writixg  history. 


the  various  libraries  reveals  many  v(jliinics  of  whoso 
existence  he  had  not  dreamed  at  first;  but  yet  lu- 
continues  his  reading  and  his  notes. 

His  work,  even  if  he  devotes  liis  whole  atti'ii- 
tion  to  it  and  resides  in  San  F/ancisco,  has  at  tlii-^ 
stage  occupied  several  years,  and  the  author  just  be- 
gins to  realize  how  very  many  books  have  been  printed 
about  California.  His  reading,  perhaps,  has  covoied 
two  hundred  and  fifty  books,  and  he  has  accumulated 
the  titles  in  diflercnt  lanijuasfes  of  two  hundred  and 
fifty  more  not  to  be  consulted  in  San  Francisco.  ]  le 
makes  an  effort  +<",  secure  some  of  those  that  seem 
most  important;  i;  '  d  ices  friends  at  a  distance  to 
send  liim  notes  from  ,;rs;  if  possible  he  travels  in 
]\Iexico  and  Europe,  ana  thus  actually  consults  many 
of  the  missing  tomes.  But  in  the  mean  time  lie  ha-; 
prol3ably  learned,  through  catalogues  and  bibliograpli- 
ical  lists,  that  five  hundred  more  works  have  betii 
printed  on  liis  subject,  even  if  he  does  not  yet  suspect 
the  truth  that  besides  the  one  thousand  there  are  \vt 
at  least  another  thousand  in  existence.  Ho  now  gives 
up  his  original  idea  of  exhausting  the  subject,  undei- 
stands  that  it  would  be  impossible  in  a  lifetime,  ;.nd 
comforts  his  conscience  and  pride  with  the  rellectinn 
that  he  has  done  much,  and  that  many  of  the  orks  Ik; 
has  not  seen,  like  many  of  those  he  has,  are  probalily 
of  very  slight  historic  value;  indeed,  it  is  most  likrly 
that  long  ere  this  he  has  allowed  himself  to  glanro 
superficially  at  some  ponderous  tome  or  large  coIIlc- 
tion  of  miscellaneous  pamphlets,  almost  persuading,' 
himself  that  they  contain  nothing  for  him.  Tlni'! 
are  ten  chances  to  one  that  he  has  not  looked  at  onr 
volume  in  twenty  of  the  m3^riads  of  the  United  Stales 
government  reports,  though  there  is  hardly  one  wliicli 
does  not  contain  something  about  California.  It  lias 
never  occurred  to  him  seriously  to  explore  the  count- 
less court  records  and  legal  briefs,  so  rich  in  histori'  d 
data.  He  knows  that  newspapers  contain  valual>l>' 
matter;   he  has  even  examined  a  partial  file  of  tliD 


A  DISCOURAGING  PICTURE. 


oOo 


fitli/nrnian,  and  some  carl}'  niinibers  of  the  Alfc  or 
Sacramento  Union,  hut  beini;'  a  sane  man  lie  has  never 
<Ii-eamod  of  an  attack  on  the  two  hundred  files  of 
( 'alifornia  ne\vspa})ers,  even  could  ho  find  them  to 
attai-k.  lie  knows  that  each  of  these  fields  of  research 
^.■<luld  afford  a  lahor  of  several  vears,  and  that  all 
of  them  would  fill  the  better  part  of  his  life  with 
(hnidgery. 

Another  trackless  wilderness  of  information  now 
opens  before  him.  Our  author  has  before  this  realized 
that  there  arc  sources  of  history  other  than  tliose 
t'umd  in  printed  matter.  He  is  surrounded  by  early 
>^ttlers,  whose  cond)ined  rv  'X)llections  are  the  coun- 
tiy's  history  in  the  main;  he  i.as  talked  with  several 
lit"  them,  and  obtained  a  few  choice  anecdotes  and 
ii'iuiniscences  to  be  utilized  in  his  book;  he  has  no 
lime  to  obtain  the  statements  of  many,  and  chx's  not 
attempt  it.  He  is  aware  of  the  desiral)ility  of  original 
inanusci'ipt  authorities;  he  eagerly  deciphers  a  musty 
document  j)rocured  by  a  friend  wiio  knows  of  his  in- 
\istigations;  is  delighted  at  tlie  discovery  of  a  small 
)iackage  of  old  pajK-rs  at  some  mission,  mysteriously 
i landed  out  by  tlie  [)arisli  priest  to  furnish  choice  cx- 
tiacts  for  the  author's  note-book;  handles  gingerly 
llie  limited  archives  of  Santa  Cruz;  obtahis  from  ]\lr 
Hopkins,  of  the  United  States  surveyor-general's 
olli(.-e,  translations  of  a  few  documentary  curiosities; 
tries  to  flatter  himself  that  he  has  studied  the  archives 
of  California,  and  is  a  happy  man  if  he  escapes  being 
Iiaunted  by  the  four  hundred  huge  folio  volumes  of 
iiiaiuiscripts  containing  the  very  essence  of  the  annals 
lie  seeks  to  write,  yet  which  he  knows  he  could  not 
master  in  fifteen  years  of  hard  work.  Perhaps  he 
( scapes  the  vision  of  the  papers  scattered  over  the 
state  in  private  hands,  enough  to  make  up  sundry 
other  hundreds  of  similar  tomes. 

I  [e  now  realizes  yet  more  fully  the  utter  imi)ossi- 
I'ilitv  of  exhaustinjTj  the  material;  feels  that  the  work 
lie  set  out  to  do  has  but  fairly  commenced,  and  can 


■)90 


MY  METHOD  OF  "WRITIXG  HISTORY. 


not  be  com[)]ctocl.  Of  course  he  floes  not  feci  called 
upon  to  nialvc  known  to  the  public  his  comparatixo 
failure;  on  the  contrary,  he  makes  the  most  of  his 
authorities.  Ilis  notes  are  brought  out  and  arraiiLCcI ; 
he  has  before  him  the  testimony  of  several  good  wii- 
nesses  on  most  of  the  prominent  points  of  his  subject : 
he  has  devoted  twent3'-five  years  of  industrious  ic- 
search  to  his  work;  the  book  is  linished  and  justly 
praised. 

This  writer,  whose  investigations  I  have  thus  fol- 
lowed, is  one  of  a  thousand,  with  whom  most  of  tlie  mi  ii 
who  have  actually  written  so-called  histories  of  many 
nations  and  epochs  are  not  worthy  of  compai'ison.  1  Ic 
failed  simply  because  he  attempted  the  ini[)ossiblo. 

Xow  the  reader  will  permit  me  to  trace  my  (n\ii 
course  through  a  similar  routine  of  investigation, 
pursued,  however,  b}'-  different  methods.  I,  like  my 
imaginary  friend,  was  determined  to  write  the  histoiy 
oC  ( "alifornia,  and  had  almost  as  va'jfuo  an  idea  as  ho  nf 
the  task  assumed.  Ho  purchased  some  books  as  (ool- 
with  which  to  work,  selecting  such  as  were  known  1m 
bear  on  his  subject;  I  l)cgan  ten  years  before  I  \\;i- 
ready  to  write,  and  bv^ught  through  agents  in  all  pan- 
of  the  world  ever}'  book  that  could  be  had  conconiin : 
the  Pacific  States,  thus  up  to  that  time  or  a  litth 
later  obtaining  twenty  thousand  volumes,  sure  to  in- 
clude, as  I  thought,  all  existing  material  about  ( "il- 
ifornia.  To  search  among  my  twenty  thousand  '<'i' 
two  thousand  on  California  was  a  less  forniidnlilr 
undertaking  than  for  him  to  search  the  shelvis  of 
different  libraries  and  catalogues  for  his  five  hun- 
dred volumes;  but  it  was  too  slow  for  my  purposes, 
and  from  ten  to  fifteen  men  were  employed  to  index 
the  whole  and  furnish  me  a  list  of  California  mateii.il 
with  reference  to  volume  and  page.  ]\Iy  imaginary 
author  plods  industriously  through  each  work  as  lie 
finds  it,  making  careful  notes  of  such  matter  as  ln' 
deems  of  value,  while  I  put  ten  men,  each  as  cap;.! 'If 


THE  SCIENTIFIC  METHOD. 


597 


In  this  kind  of  labor  as  ho  or  I,  at  work  to  extract 
rvurything  under  its  proper  headiiig.  I,  like  him,  ani 
more  and  more  astonished  at  tlie  appai'ently  never 
euiUng  mass  of  material  encountered,  but  I  can  see 
my  way  through  if  only  the  treasury  depai'tnient  sus- 
l;iins  me.  So  I  tunnel  the  mountain  of  court  I'ccords 
and  legal  briefs,  bridge  the  marsh  of  United  States 
government  documents,  and  stationing  myself  at  a 
-ale  distance  in  the  rear,  hurl  my  force's  against  the 
>ohd  columns  of  two  hundred  liles  of  California  news- 
iui])ers. 

[,  too,  see  about  me  many  living  "witnesses,  and 
tVom  several  hundreds  of  them  I  obtain,  by  aid  of 
stenographers,  as  well  as  other  reporters,  detailed 
statements  respecting  early  times.  I  more  than  sus- 
pect the  existence  of  important  papers  scattered  in 
private  hands,  and  I  procei;d  to  buy,  borrow,  and  beg, 
until  the  product  lills  a  hundred  volumes.  The  six 
hundred  bulky  tomes  of  public  and  mission  archives 
1 1-e  up  before  me,  but  there  is  no  such  thing  as  retreat 
at  this  point  of  procedure;  I  have  no  fifteen  years 
to  spend  in  plodding  through  this  pathless  waste,  but 
til'teen  searchers  reduce  the  time  to  one  year,  and  the 
arcliivcs  are  transferred  to  my  library.  Meanwhile 
liu  note-takers  continue  their  labors;  each  volume, 
]iamphlet,  manuscript,  and  newspaper  is  made  to  give 
up  Its  evidence,  little  or  much,  on  one  point  or  man}', 
and  nothim;  is  omitted  or  slighted. 

At  last  the  preparatory  wo)'k  is  ended,  and  the 
e\;dence  on  each  specific  |)oint  is  laid  befoi'c  me,  as 
my  friend  had  his  before  him,  with  this  difference: 
I  liave  practically  all  where  he  had  only  part — he 
liai'dly  realized,  perhaps,  how  small  a  part,  lie  had 
two  or  three  witnesses  whose  testiniony  ho  had  se- 
lected as  essential  on  a  certain  topic;  I  have  a  hun- 
'hi'd  whose  evidence  is  more  or  less  relevant.  Fi'om 
tills  point  our  progress  lies  practically  in  the  same 
path,  and  the  race  is  well  nigh  run.  Had  he  the 
same  tlata  as  I,  his  results  would  be  superior  to  mine 


ii 


!l 


J9S 


MY  METHOD  OF  WRITING  IlI>;TORY. 


Id 


t 


if  he  wei'o  my  superior  as  a  thinker  and  as  a  writoi- 
Our  res})ective  nietliods  and  systems  have  httle  or  i 
iuikieuee  in  the  matter,  save  perhaps  that  in  my  e.\- 
l)erience  with  many  assistants  I  liave  been  ahle  tn 
select  a  lew  to  whom  I  am  able  to  intrust  the  pre})ara- 
tion  of  systematized  notes  on  special  topics,  and  thu> 
still  further  to  shorten  my  labors. 

My  work  at  last  completed,  I  have  been  able  to  ac- 
complish thoroughly  in  fifteen  years  what  my  friend, 
(juite  as  zealous,  industrious,  and  able  as  I,  has  ddiw 
su[)erileia]l3'  in  twenty-live  years,  and  what  he  could 
not  have  done  as  thoroug'hly  as  T,  in  six  lifetimes.  And 
yet  our  respective  mi'thttds  dilfer  after  all  in  dei;'i'e(! 
rather  than  in  kinil,  I  have  done  scarcely  anytliiii'^ 
that  he  has  not  attempted.  ITo  has  purcliased  books, 
.studied  books,  handled  newspapers,  deciphered  maii- 
uscri[)ts,  and  questioned  pioneers;  I  have  simply  dom.' 
twenty  times  as  nmch  as  he  in  each  of  these  direc- 
tions, much  more  easily  and  in  much  less  time. 

I  come  now  to  consider  the  relative  merits  of  tlic 
two   methods,  the   desirability  of  applying.,'  busiin  ss 
methods    and    division    of    labor    to    historical    nw.l 
scientific  research.     The  advanta<j:es  and  the  dis.u! 
vantages,  if  any  such  there  be,  of  such  ap[>licnli-M 
should   be  noted.     I    claim    that   mine   is  tlie   ii:i!\ 
method  by  which  all  the  evidence  on  a  great  subject 
or    on    many  smaller  subjects  can    be    l)rought   oui. 
A\'ithout  it  the  author  must  confine  himself  to  liniitrd 
topics  or  do  his  work  superficially.     To  thus  limiting 
himself  there  is  no  objection,  as  there  can  be  n<iii  ■ 
that  I  know  of  to  the  more  ambitious  i)lan  of  ha\  i'lg 
hel[)  and  doing  more  and  better  work.    I  can  concei\i' 
of  no  case  where  it  is  not  desirable  for  an  investigator 
to  have  before  him  all  the  evidence;  thougli  1  li;i\' 
had  some  experience  with  critics  who  revere  as  tin 
historian  the  n^an  who  writes  fr(jm  a  study  of  twenty 
books    with    rare    and    patronizing    credit   to    tin  ii' 
authors,  and  more  liohtlv  esteem  him  who  stutli(  -  -i 
thousand  works,  and  chooses  in  his   notes  to  leave 


THE  LOCAL  ANNALIST. 


.'W 


•standing  tho  ladder  b}'  which  hu  mounted.  I  liavc; 
also  mot  critics  wlio  a])[)arontly  could  not  t'om])rclu'nd 
that  a  writer  wiio  refers  to  one  thousand  authorities 
does  not  necessarily  use  them  mechanically,  or  allow 
a  numerical  majority  to  decide  every  jxtint,  instead 
of  internal  evidence.  ]3ut  these  objections  sc-r\e 
only  to  show  in  a  clearer  light  their  own  absurdity, 
and  that  a  thorough  study  is  far  better  than  a  super- 
licial  one. 

An  industrious  author  may  in  a  reasonable  timi! 
collect  data  and  j)ro|)erly  record  the  mannei's  and  cus- 
toms of  the  iSIodoc  tribe,  the  annals  of  Grass  Valley, 
iir  the  events  of  the  Bear  Flag  revolution;  and  for 
the  man  who  thus  honestly  toils  to  increase  the  store 
of  human  knowledge  I  have  the  greatest  I'espect. 
Such  a  man  could  not  by  ordinary  methods  write 
anything  like  a  com])lete  work  on  the  aborigines  of 
America,  or  even  of  California,  or  on  the  histoi'V 
of  the  Pacific  States;  and  for  the  man  who  from  an 
ae(juaintan(,'e  with  Iro([Uois  manners  and  customs, 
with  the  reading  of  a  few  books  on  the  North 
American  aborigines,  proceeds  learnedly  on  the  in- 
stitutions and  history  of  every  tribe  and  nation  from 
Alaska  to  Cape  Horn,  from  the  Crow  reservation 
in  1S75  back  to  the  dwellers  of  the  prehistoric 
Xibalba— for  such  a  man  I  have  not  very  nmch  ad- 
miration to  spare,  even  if  some  of  his  theories  are 
|ilausiblc  and  ingeniously  and  eloquently  sup})orted. 
Neither  am  I  ovei'burdened  with  respect  for  the  sni- 
(lisaid  historians  of  California  who  can  in  the  leisin-e 
hours  of  a  few  years  and  within  the  limits  of  five  hun- 
dred pages  record  all  that  is  worth  knowing  of  the 
annals  of  our  state;  who  before  184G  see  nothing  but 
the  acts  of  a  few  padres  and  'greasers,'  of  which  uo- 
oody  c.'ires  to  hear;  who  glance  vaguely  and  su|>er- 
licially  at  a  few  of  the  many  phases  of  the  subject  they 
profess  to  treat. 

The  great  advantage  claimed  for  my  system  of 
literary  work  is,  then,  that  it  renders  possible  results 


mm 


I 

'   '.V 

m 


cno 


MY  ^[ET]IOD  OF  WRITING  HISTORY. 


otliorwisc  iinattaiiinblo.  I  deoin  it  desirable  tliat  the 
few  to  Avhoiii  nature  has  j^iven  tlie  capacity  to  derive 
tlu'irn-reatest  enjoyment  fV( nil  the  hard  toil  of  literaiy 
and  scientific  reseai'ch  should  he  enabled  to  embrace 
in  tlieir  efforts  the  l)i-oadest  tields  and  accomplish  the 
grandest  possible  results. 

On  the  other  liand,  this  system  of  research  involves 
a  jfyreat  j)ecuniary  outlay.    In  many  kinds  of  lal)or  twd 
workino'tou^ether  will  accomplisli  more  than  four  Avoi'k- 
ing  separately;  in  other  kinds,  four  will  not  do  twic(! 
as  much  as  two.     But  this  is  a  disadvantage  which 
aifects  only  the  author,  and  not  his  w^ork,  nor  tlio 
interests  of  his  readers.    The  same  reply  miglit  hi; 
made  to  the  complaint  tliat  assistants  cannot  be  found 
who  will  woi'k  as  carefully  and  zealously  as  the  em- 
ployer, since   tliis  fact  simply  renders  necessary  tlin 
extraction  of  some  superlluous  or  duplicate  material. 
It  is  true  that  an  investigator  in  his  studv  of  authoii- 
ties  learns  nuich  of  his  subject  beyond  what  is  con- 
tainetl  in  the  notes  that  he  pi'cserves,  and  that  at  the 
close  of  the  preparatory  studies  this  knowLxlge  l>y 
mv  system  of  work  exists  in  several  mimls  rather 
than  in  one.     This  objection  is  to  a  certain  extent  wi  II 
taken,  and  I  am  disposed  to  admit  that  on  a  limited 
subject  which  can  be  really  mastered  within  a  peri* "I. 
say,  of  five  years,  one  man  will  produce  better  wM)ik 
than  several,  although  ex})erience  has  taught  me  that 
the  a}iplication  of  varied  talent,  ao  two  men  treading' 
in  the  same  path,  is  not  witliout  its  advantages.     I 
have  always  encouraged  among  my  assistants  a  i'vv>.) 
ex})ression  of  their  own  ideas,  and  have  derived  the 
greatest  benefit  from  frequent  conversations  and  dis- 
cussions with   them  on  special  topics.     In  long  aii<' 
complicated  subjects  to  which  my  method  is  applicable, 
and  which  cannot  be  successfully  treated  by  any  othei', 
I  am  inclined  to  regard  thedivisi(m  of  labor  as  an  ad 
\antage  in  itself.     I  question  if  the  mind  which  eaii 
plod  for  a  long  series  of  years  through  the  necessary 
preliminary  work  is  the  mind  properly  constituted  fer 


TEXT  AND  NOTES. 


001 


the  best  use  of  the  inatorial  acfjuii'ed;  or  whether  the 
l)est  abihty  is  not  iniuretl  bv  loiiLf  (h'ud'erv. 

Tlie  })ruuary  I'luluavor  in  all  u\\  historical  writiinj^s 
lias  been  to  exhaust  the  sultjoL-t,  but  presenting  it 
.ihvays  as  condensed  as  possible.  In  the  text  is  givi'n 
the  information  eoni})lete,  the  full  narrative  in  the 
fewest  wortls. 

It  was  ever  my  aim  to  tell  the  story  clearly  and 
concisely,  taking  a  connnon-sense  practical  view  of 
things,  and  arranging  them  in  natural  sequence,  giving 
an  episode  as  nmeh  as  possible  in  one  place,  even 
though  in  its  relation  to  other  episodes  it  overlap])ed 
a  little.  Analysis  of  character,  as  applied  to  leading- 
personages,  I  endeavored  to  make  a  feature,  giving, 
with  physical  description,  bent  of  mind  and  natut'al 
i\nd  acquired  abilities.  In  cases  where  characteristics 
were  not  directly  s[)eciHe(l  they  might  be  arrived  at 
i'loni  the  acts  of  the  individual.  A  little  colloquy 
was  deemed  not  ineffective  when  short,  ter.sii,  and  in 
language  ap})ropriate  to  the  persons  and  the  time. 
A  shoit  story,  pointedly  given,  is  eifective  to  enliven 
the  text,  but  it  must  not  be  carelessly  done.  The 
notes  were  for  reference  to  authorities,  for  proof, 
•  lucidation,  discussion,  illustration,  balancing  of  i-vi- 
(lence,  and  for  second-cla.ss  information.  To  this  end 
([notations  from  authorities  were  deemed  in  ordisr,  ncjt 
j.s  repetitions,  but  as  presenting  the  subject  in  its  sev- 
n-al  shades  and  opposite  positions.  Though  not  illus- 
ti'ated — first-class  writings  are  seldom  illustrated — 
maps  and  plans  were  inserted  in  both  text  and  notes 
wherever  needed.  In  rci^ard  to  biblioLrraphv,  it  was 
my  aim  to  give  every  important  book  and  manuscript 
t'ormal  notice  in  the  most  suitable  place;  the  title  to 
he  given  in  full,  in  italic.  The  contents  of  the  work 
were  then  briefly  epitomized,  after  which  a  criticism 
of  the  work  and  a  biographical  notice  of  the  author 
were  given.  The  biographies  of  all  leading  historical 
I  haracters  were  of  course  presented  in  the  text,  these 
of  themselves  constituting  history;  inferior  characters 


il'l 


m 


«02 


MV  Mi;TII()r>  OF  WRITINf!  HISTORY. 


: 


wt'ic  (lisjioscd  (if  in  tlu!  noti'S,  Imt  of  those  latter  tiieio 
were  lew  except  among  [lioneers. 

Hetweeii  tlie  old  method  and  the  now  there  is  ahont 
the  j>ame  dilKerence  that  would  arise  in  any  undci' 
taking'  hy  a  practical  man  ot  business  and  hy  a  |)urelv 
garret  j>hiloso[)her  oi-  student.  Elscwere  in  this  ^(»l- 
ume  I  have  drawn  certain  conij)arisons  between  the 
industrial  life  and  the  intellectual  life.  I  di'sire  lu  iv 
to  s]»eak  more  particidarly  of  the  etfects  of  a  business 
and  a  collegiate  course  on  literary  labors,  the  dillereiicL' 
in  the  men  prc^duced  by  these  two  s[)ecies  of  training, 
and  the  etfect-s  upon  my  historical  efforts  of  my  former 
business  experience. 

In  tlie  two  classi's  of  oceu])ation, while  there  is  much 
in  harmony  there  is  also  much  that  is  directly  antag- 
onistic one  to  the  other.  The  elements  essential  to 
success  are  alike  in  both,  but  the  training  suitable  i'ny 
one  is  not  the  best  for  tlio  other.  There  are  certain 
qualities  e(|unlly  beneficird  in  both.  PConestv,  intelli- 
gence, a[iplication,  and  the  like  are  as  valuable  to 
the  i)rof<.'ssional  man  as  to  the  business  man,  and  not 
more  so;  just  as  blood,  endurance,  reliability,  are  as 
valuable  (jualities  in  the  draught-horse  as  in  the  rnce- 
horse;  the  training,  however,  would  bo  quite  dilFerent 
in  tlie  two  cases.  Obviously  the  course  [)ursued  in 
fitting  a  horse  for  the  turf  unfits  the  animal  for  the 
cart. 

I  never  imagined  this  difference  to  bo  so  pronounced 
in  the  traininu'  of  younof  men  destined  to  their  dilfei- 
cut  jnu'suits  until  I  was  brought  into  immediate  and 
con.stant  contact  with  two  distinct  sets  of  assistant ', 
directing  both,  and  ])art  of  the  time  under  the  same 
roof  The  business  I  had  planted;  all  its  growth  and 
branchings  I  had  directed,  eno'acfinij  and  oversee- 
ing  all  those  employed  in  it.  This  represented  one 
part  of  mo,  and  of  my  life.  ]My  literary  work  I  had 
conceived,  })lanned,  and  was  then  performing,  direct- 
ing fully  every  one  engaged  in  it.     This  represented 


LiTHRATrnK  AND  T;rsrNr;>!s. 


no.'t 


aiiotlior  part  of  me,  luy  nature,  my  aspirations,  uiid 
niv  lilo. 

A  younj^  man  or  an  old  man  appli(\s  to  mo  for  a 
situation.  JlcmaylK'  suitalile  i'ur  the  business  and 
not  for  tlie  librai-y;  nay,  if  ho  is  speeially  fitted  lor 
one  lio  is  not  snitahlo  i'or  the  otlicr.  ^[y  fn-st  (pies- 
tions  are:  Wliat  did  you  last^  What  have  you  Ix-cn 
doini;-  all  your  lile:*    What  are  your  aspii'ations  ^ 

If  the  apprK'ant's  time  hitherto  has  heen  spt'ut  as 
salesn)an  or  hook-keept-r  in  a  mercantile  or  manu- 
facturing ostahlishnunit;  if  his  mind  he  of  th<'  i-olor 
of  money,  and  his  chief  (K'sires  and  tastt-s  lio  in  tht; 
threction  of  huying,  and  selling,  and  g(;tting  gain,  he  is 
worth  nothiiiLC  to  mi'  in  tlio  lihrarv.  On  the  other 
hand,  if  he  bo  scholarly  in  his  tastes,  of  meditative, 
intellectual  hal)its,  careless  of  money,  i)roferring  the 
merchandise  of  mind  to  i\ui  accunnilations  df  the 
warehouse;  if  he  he  sensitive,  didident,  and  ictiring, 
iiK'Xj)erienced  in  business,  with  parents  and  fiiends 
iiilellectuallv  inclined,  having  s])ent  his  whole  life  at 
study,  having  ac([uired  a  good  collegiate  education,  and 
lieing  still  andjitious  to  ac<|uire  more,  I  should  ne\er 
thiidv  of  })lacing  such  a  man  in  the  l)Ustlo  of  Inisi- 
ut'ss.  It  would  be  no  less  distasteful  to  him  than 
unprofitable  to  both  of  us. 

1'he  3'outh's  training  and  experience  while  in  a  store 
ai-e  invaluable  to  him  if  he  means  to  become  a  mer- 
chant. It  is  time  lost,  and  often  worse  than  lost,  if 
the  intellectual  life  be  his  iuture  field;  althou<j:h  in  mv 
own  case,  beuinninu'  with  literature  later  in  life,  and 
lu-osecuting  studies  after  my  own  [)eculiar  method,  my 
I'Usiness  ex})erience  was  of  the  greatest  advantage  to 
iiie.  "  Leufal  trainiii'jf,"  remarks  rieorLi'e  ]']liot,  "onlv 
makes  a  man  more  incompetent  in  questions  that  I'e- 
•  luiie  knowledge  of  another  kind"  The  activities  of 
business  call  into  play  such  totally  different  (piali- 
ties  of  mind,  drawing  it  from  its  content  in  quiet, 
thoughtful  study,  and  stirrin.g  it  to  acciunulative 
stiii'e  and  the  passions  of  ac(juisition,  that  it  is  in 


1 


ff;  "'ill 
I'll 


IN 


004 


MY  METHOD  OF  WRITING  illSTORY. 


souu:  ivspccts,  but  not  in  all,  u  jjositivc  detriniont  to 
intellectual  ])ursuits.  On  the  other  luuid,  study  and 
1  !u'  thounhti'ul  investigation  which  .should  iullow  it  are 
too  apt  to  engender  sensitive,  se<lentary  hal/its  and  a 
(hstaste  i'or  the  activities  of  business.  As  Mr  J  Li- 
bert Spencer  puts  it:  "  Faculty  of  every  kind  tends 
alw.iys  to  adjust  itself  to  its  work.  Sj»ecial  adjust- 
ment to  one  kind  of  work  involves  more  or  less  non- 
adjustment  to  other  kinds." 

It  is  not  my  i>ur[)ose  here  to  discuss  the  relative 
iinpoitanco  of  these  two  pursuits.  Both  are  impor- 
tant, tlie  one  no  less  than  the  other,  and  it  woidd  be 
well  il'  one  could  have  the  benelit  of  both.  It  would 
be  well  if  in  (»ne  person  could  be  united  twentydillerent 
kinds  of  traininL!".  A  military  training  has  its  advau- 
tages;  though  1  nuist  say  1  see  no  greater  wisdom  in 
introducing  the  military  element  in  a  boys'  school  than 
the  wood-.sawing  element  or  the  watch-makiniJ'  ele 
nient.  For  instance,  the  wood-.sawver  and  the  watcii- 
ma'cer,  in  actpiiring  or  in  practising  their  occui)aru)iis, 
ilerive  advantages  beneiicial  to  the  lawyer  or  merchant. 
A  medical  training  is  advantaLi^eous  to  a  cleruvman: 
eviry  s[)ecies  of  training  acts  beneiiciallyon  every  ol  Ik  i 
.'-[)ecies.  There, is  no  occu})ation  in  which  the  learnei' 
Would  not  be  benetited  by  the  training  incident  to  a 
dozen  other  occu]»ations,  were  it  possible  to  learn  the 
twelve!  without  slighting  the  one. 

In  my  literary  work,  at  every  turn,  I  found  niyst  It' 
deriviui''  the  ]ar<>'est  benehts  from  mv  business  exiKii- 
ence.  iiefore  I  had  been  engaged  in  my  historical 
lahois  for  five  years  I  found  my  new  woik  broadly 
[ilanni'd  and  faiily  systi'Uiati/i'd.  Accustomed  to  util- 
ize the  labors  of  others,  I  found  nodilHculty  in  directlii;' 
a  small  army  of  workers  here.  I  found  fastened  u[>oii 
me  as  [tart  of  my  nature  habits  of  a[iplication  ai,.! 
perseverance  from  which  I  could  not  teai-  myself  it'  1 
would.  I  was  woimd  U[t  by  my  inother  to  work;  aial 
so  wountl  that  the  running  down  should  bo  with  the 
last  tick  of  time. 


ADVANTAOES  OF  VARIOUS  TRAININGS. 


605 


Moreover,  I  found  myself  as  free  as  iniglit  be  from 
prejudices,  though  this,  I  helieve,  is  tl)e  o})iniou  of 
the  wihU^st  fanaticism  concernifiLf  itself;  i'ree  IVoni 
^sectarianism  and  party  bias,  and  from  the  whole 
catalogue!  of  isms,  some  of  which  arc  apt  to  fasten 
themselves  on  innnature  minds  and  there  remain 
thi'ongh  life,  I  found  myself  with  no  cause-  to  hattL- 
i'or,  no  preconceived  lights  or  wrongs  to  vindicatf 
or  avenge,  no  so-called  l)elief  to  establish,  no  s[)eeial 
])olitics  to  jilead.  I  had  no  aim  or  interest  to  pi-e- 
st'ut  aught  but  the  truth;  and  I  cared  little  what 
truth  should  prove  to  bo  when  found,  or  whetlier  it 
agreed  with  my  conceptions  of  what  it  was  or  ougiit 
to  be.  I  would  as  williii<>ly  have  found  the  uioon 
in  the  bottom  of  the  wel',  were  it  really  there,  as  in 
the  heavens,  where  we  have  always  supposed  it  to  bt\ 
It  was  as  though  I  had  been  born  into  th<!  world  of 
letters  a  full-grown  man. 

lie  who  accumulates  facts  seldom  o-oneralizes  them, 
ln'cause  no  one  man  has  the  time  and  the  ability  to 
do  both  to  any  great  extent.  Herbert  Spencer  could 
have  made  little  ])rogress  weaving  his  vast  and  spark- 
ling theories  had  he  not  possessed  a  good  store  of 
raw  material  before  he  began  them.  Tlien  again, 
general  speculations  spring  from  habits  of  tliought 
d  i  lie  rent  fi'om  those  that  regulate  the  mind-machin«'ry 
of  scientific  specialists.  Yet  the  spii-it  of  business 
activity  may  be  infused  into  the  meditations  of  mind. 
The  ethics  of  commerce  are  not  i'ully  apj)i'cciat(Ml  by 
tlie  student  of  literature,  of  law,  of  divinity.  Thei-e 
are  in  the  commercial  life  more  intluenct^s  at  work  to 
form  habit,  character,  opinion,  than  in  almost  any  other 
splu'ri'  t)f  action.  Jn  looking  back  upnn  the  past  the 
success  of  my  historical  undertakings  di'p«nde<|  no  lt>s 
on  liusiness  experience  than  on  literary  abihty. 

So  long  as  the  spirit  incai'iiate,  so  long  as  mind, 
abides  in  the  body,  the  l)ody  must  be  cared  for;  in- 
deed, it  is  the  first  care  of  the  mind  to  ])ri>vide  Ibr 
the  b.xly,  but  the  body  (»nce  furnished  with  jtroper 


fM 


GOG 


MY  ilETIIOD  OF  WRITING  HISTORY. 


food  and  covering,  it  is  not  only  cncrvatinji",  but  posi- 
tively debasing  for  the  mind  to  go  on  unneces.saril\' 
pampering  and  ]iroviding  all  its  days.  Eating  only 
gold  Mill  not  satit^fy  hunger;  drinking  only  gold  will 
not  quench  thirst;  a.  higher  and  holier  appetite  tliau 
that  for  wealth  should  swell  men's  instincts.  Othci- 
wise  the  simple  re(]uirement  of  nature  corrodes,  be- 
comes gangrene  with  greed,  and  the  intellect,  the 
only  part  of  man  which  lives  or  is  at  all  progressive', 
is  k;ft  to  decay. 

As  to  which  is  the  higher,  the  nobler  of  these  ]>ur- 
suits,  there  is  no  question.  Philosophers  are  the  mind 
of  society,  as  agriculturists  and  manufacturers  aii- 
the  body.  "We  res})ect  the  mercantile  mind,  as  we 
should,"  says  Stoddard,  "but  something  tells  us  that 
it  is  inferior  to  pure  intellect.  We  reverence  genius 
more  than  gunny  bags." 

Like  every  other  animal,  man  toils  for  simple  exist- 
ence. Now  if  wealth  increased  life,  there  would  l>e 
some  sense  in  struggling  for  it.  But  this  is  not  ••n: 
it  absorbs  life.  Only  the  multiplication  of  mind  laul 
tiplies  life;  and  it  is  in  the  exercise  of  this  [)rivile!':i 
alone  that  man  is  better  than  a  brute,  ^[oni'V  and 
l)ower,  at  first  esteemed  as  ministers  of  our  pie;. sure, 
linally  are  loved  for  themselves  alone. 

A  life  of  business,  of  acquisition,  of  struggling  tn 
better  one's  bodily  condition,  however  well  it  may  b  . 
however  necessary,  never  can  produce  the  highest 
results.  Drawn  into  the  whirlpool  of  money-getting, 
the  mind  is  lost  to  nobler  efforts.  "  Every  man's  aim, ' 
says  Higginson,  "must  cither  be  riches  or  sonjething 
better  than  riches."  And  here  is  one  strong  })lea  ibr  ,i 
non-accumulating  aristocracy,  for  some  units  of  eveiy 
society  to  stand  as  perpetual  reminders  to  covetous 
men  that  there  are  things  in  heaven  and  earth  m»>i  • 
valuable,  more  worthy  rational  consideration,  than 
gold,  merchandise,  and  stocks;  that  there  are  suc'i 
things  in  this  universe  as  imperishable  treasures  l)r- 
yond  tlie  reach  of  nistth  and  rust,  and  that  he  wli' 


THE  CURSE  OF  COVETOUSNESS. 


607 


dies  worth  only  his  ten  or  twenty  milHons  in  money 
dies  poor  indeed. 

What  shall  we  say  of  a  lifctinje  of  besotted  wal- 
lowinij  for  wealth,  when  bright  souls  arc  sullied  even 
by  the  contamination  of  it:*  As  Jean  Paul  Iliditer 
expresses  it:  "The  pure  and  upright  man  is  always 
once,  in  the  earliest  time,  a  diamond  of  the  first  water, 
transparent  and  colorless;  then  ho  is  one  of  the  second 
water,  and  many  r,nd  various  colors  play  in  its  beams, 
until  finally  he  becomes  as  dark  as  the  stone  which 
<a-inds  the  colors." 

Wealth,  if  it  does  not  paralyze  literary  eflbrt,  in 
almost  all  cases  diminishes  intellectual  activity.  Often 
it  completely  annihilates  all  intellectual  thinking  and 
living.  The  highest  mental  energy  springs  under  the 
stimulant  f)f  necessity, exce[)t,  indeed,  in  ci'.^esof  super- 
al)undant  genius,  which  are  exceedingly  rare. 

Pleasure  is  not  the  only  inlluence  that  draws  the 
rich  man  from  his  literary  devotions.  The  power 
which  money  gives,  and  which  encourages  the  ])0s- 
scssor  to  employ  it  in  accomplishment,  instead  of  the 
feebler  cfi'orts  of  personal  drudgery,  is  a  stronger 
temptation  even  than  that  of  pleasure.  Honor  and 
I  tower  as  well  as  pleasure  are  already  secured;  why 
should  one  voluntarily  descend  to  a  state  of  such 
severe  servitude?  The  man  with  money  can  accom- 
jilish  so  much  more,  and  with  so  much  greater  ease, 
by  directing  the  labor  ol"  others  than  by  l)uny  })er- 
sonal  efforts.  Once  in  a  great  while,  as  in  the  cases 
of  Ruskin  and  the  Humboldts,  one  sees  intellect  [)os- 
si'ssed  of  gold, and  not  }>ossessrd  l)y  it;  l)ut  the  younger 
l^hny  was  for  the  most  i)art  right  when  In;  said,  "'Ea 
iiivasit  homines,  habendi  cupido,  ut  possideri  magis, 
(juain  possidere  videantur." 

"Industry,  and  a  taste  for  intellectual  jileasures," 
says  Lord  Macaulay  of  noble  authors,  "are  [>eculiaily 
respectable  in  those  who  can  afford  to  be  idle  and  who 
liave  every  temptation  to  be  dissipated.  It  is  impos- 
sil)le  n(»t  to  wish  success  to  a  man  who,  finding  him- 


COS 


MY  METHOD  OF  WRITING  HISTORY, 


self  placed,  without  any  exertion  or  merit  on  his  part, 
above  the  mass  of  society,  voluntarily  tlesconds  iVoin 
his  eminence  in  search  of  distinctions  which  he  ni;iv 
justl}'  call  his  own."  In  his  model  republic,  Plati' 
unites  elegance  with  siniplicity,and  makes  men  learned 
without  being  we;^k. 

Pride  is  a  great  comforter.  Some  arc  \)Vo\v\ 
of  their  wealth,  and  some  of  their  poverty;  some  of 
their  noble  ancestry,  and  some  of  their  low  origin. 
While  wo  rejcjice  to  see  wealth  scattered  and  the 
mi'dity  things  of  this  world  made  useful:  while  we 
cry  with  Lucan,  "In  so  magna  ruunt:  loetis  huni- 
numina  rebus  crescendi  posuoro  modum!"  yet  if 
these  poor  gold-ridden  plodders  are  satisfied,  I  do  not 
see  why  wc  should  molest  them.  If  Crresus  fancied 
himself  the  happiest  of  mortals,  was  it  not  unkind  in 
Sok)n  to  attempt  to  undeceive  him? 

Horace  boasted  his  humble  birth;  so  did  Burns, 
and  so  J^eranger.     Now,  while  I  see  nothing  to  be 
proud  of  in  wealth  or  high  birth;  while  I  respect  ;i 
man  not  one  whit  more  because  he  happens  to  lia\(' 
bushels  of  money,  or  because  his  ftithcr  gave  him  tlh 
privilege  of  writing  lord  or  count  before  his  name,  on 
the  other  hand  I  see  nothing  glorious  in  being  born 
in  a  hovel.     Let  him  praise  himself  who,  born  rich  <  r 
titled,  achieves  true  greatness,  rather  than  the  liunibL 
person  who  rises  by  his  own  efforts,  for  poverty  diive> 
one  on  to  laborious  undertaking,  while  the  rich  and 
great  have  no  such  incentive.     Of  the  two,  the  laud 
able  efforts  of  poverty  or  the  ennui  of  wealth,  give  ni' 
the  former. 

A  word  with  regard  to  retiring  from  business.  Tt 
is  well  enough  understood  at  this  day  that  he  wl  • 
suddenly  exchanges  life-long,  active  occupation  for  idl 
happiness  seldom  finds  it.  It  is  only  the  constitu- 
tionally lazy  man,  he  who  has  never  done  anythinL;. 
who  enjoys  doing  nothing  If  the  commercial  ni  ii 
has  a  cultivated  intellect,  he  has  an  unfailing  resouivc 


RETIRIXG  FROM  BUSINESS. 


609 


within  himself.  But  this  is  not  often  the  case: 
a  man  of  refined  and  cultivated  literary  tastes  is 
seldom  a  great  commercial  man.  "  Tiie  tendency  of 
modern  business  life,"  says  Doctor  Beard,  "for  one 
who  succeeds  in  it,  is  to  repress  whatever  of  poetry, 
or  science,  or  art  there  may  be  in  the  brain."  Yet 
absolute  retirement  from  an  active  and  successful 
husinoss  life  which  he  loves,  even  to  a  purely  intel- 
lectual life  which  he  loves  better,  may  not  be  always 
the  best  a  man  can  do.  The  strains  of  study  and 
writing  are  so  severe  upon  the  nerves  that  at  times 
business  may  be  recreation — that  is,  if  the  business 
is  well  systematized  and  successful,  with  plenty  to  do, 
with  plenty  of  capital,  and  without  haste,  anxiety,  or 
worry. 

At  all  events  I  never  could  wholly  retire  from 
business,  although  at  times  its  duties  were  extremely 
distasteful  and  its  cares  crushing.  Some  of  the  hap- 
piest associations,  some  of  the  warmest  friendships, 
liave  sprung  from  my  commercial  life;  and  they 
iiover  left  me,  but  ripened  into  sweeter  fragrance  us 
aye  crept  on  apace.  Kenny,  Colley,  Dorland,  and 
my  nephew  Will,  Welch  and  Mitchell,  Maison  and 
Pit  Tson,  and  all  the  rest  of  the  little  army  I  used 
to  general  with  such  satisfaction,  not  oidy  were 
you  diligent  and  loyal  to  the  business,  but  you 
were  among  those  1  was  ever  proud  to  call  niy 
fiii'iids!  In  the  midst  of  the  severest  literary  labors, 
as  I  have  before  mentioned,  I  have  voluntarily  taken 
solo  charge  of  the  business  when  it  was  largest  ond 
most  intricate,  for  months  and  years  at  a  time, 
doubling  its  capabilities  and  profits  with  as  little 
ellort  as  that  employed  by  the  skilful  engineer  in 
adding  to  the  force  of  his  machinery;  and  1  bclii'vo 
I  dciived  only  pleasure  and  benefit  from  it.  It  was  a 
relief  to  my  tired  brain  to  step  from  the  libraiy 
to  the  office  and  in  a  few  moments  shape  the  next 
month's  affairs;  it  was  a  relief  to  fingers  stiff  from 
writing  history  to  sign  checks  awhile.     Nor  is  this 

Lit.  IMS.    39 


!5 


610 


MY  METHOD  OF  WRITING  HISTORY. 


[' 


any  contradiction  to  what  I  earlier  remarked  about 
interruptions  when  deep  in  literary  labors.  A  man 
can  do  much  if  left  to  his  own  way. 

It  is  no  new  thing  to  travel  and  collect  data.  Four 
hundred  years  before  Christ  the  world's  first  histoi-iaii 
was  abroad  in  search  of  material.  But  the  travels  of 
Herodotus  covered  an  area  of  not  more  than  seven- 
teen hur^lred  square  miles;  that  is  to  say,  along  inter- 
secting lines  extending  through  thirty-one  degrees  of 
longitude  and  twenty-four  of  latitude,  though,  indeed, 
all  the  world  of  his  day. 

The  country  whose  story  I  proposed  to  tell,  all 
that  was  known  of  it,  its  physical  features  as  well  as 
its  peoples,  the  aborigines  and  their  supplanters,  em- 
braced an  area  of  some  three  millions  of  square  miks, 
nearly  one  twelfth  of  the  earth's  land-surface,  uith 
twelve  thousand  miles  of  sea-coast.  The  whole  earth 
was  ransacked  for  information  touching  this  territorv. 

Arnold  says :  "  For  the  creation  of  a  master- work 
of  literature  two  powers  must  concur,  the  power  of 
the  man  and  the  power  of  the  moment." 

Histories  of  the  early  nations  of  Asia  and  Europe, 
as  I  have  before  said,  had  been  collated  by  many 
skilful  hands,  had  been  studied  with  care,  greatly  lo 
the  profit  of  mankind.  The  inhabitants  of  ea:sti'iii 
North  America  likewise  had  their  able  chronickis, 
men  who  had  spent  their  lives  in  studying  and  i)oi- 
traying  aboriginal  character  as  well  as  modern  his- 
tory.  All  this  I  was  now  attempting  to  do  for  the 
western  side  of  the  continent. 

History  will  be  written,  and  men  will  rise  to  write 
it.  Nature  reports  her  own  progress,  reports  it  Ii. 
the  sandstones,  the  coal  and  peat  beds,  in  mountains, 
rivers,  and  seas.  The  migrations  and  convulsions  oi' 
society  leave  not  their  footprint  upon  the  stones,  but 
the  doings  of  civilization  are  none  the  less  certain  td 
be  reported.  In  every  nation  there  are  some  who 
will  gather  and  communicate  from  pure  love  of  it. 


GENERAL  NOTES. 


Gil 


All  writings  are  a  description  of  somethinGj,  either 
real  or  imaginary.  Thus,  history  describes  nations  in 
their  successive  events  and  epochs;  poetry  paints  the 
passions;  the  novelist  gives  a  series  of  imaginary, 
social,  or  other  occurrences;  science  and  pliilosophy 
describe  realities,  material  and  immaterial.  Tlie  diller- 
c'lit  kinds  of  literature  did  not  originate  and  develop 
simultaneously;  poetry  and  philosophy  were  born  be- 
fore romance  and  science. 

j\Iy  theme  should  be  the  people  and  their  land. 
Whatever  should  concern  them,  their  character  and 
comforts,  their  origin  and  destiny,  surely  was  not 
out  of  place.  The  burden  of  the  Iliad  is  not  the  siege 
of  Troy,  but  the  wrath  of  Achilles;  the  burden  of 
Herodotus  is  not  the  history  of  Greece,  but  the  de- 
struction of  the  Persian  anuada.  But  the  less  sisjfiiiri- 
cant  instruments  by  means  of  whicli  civilization  cuts 
her  channels  should  not  monopolize  all  my  tlioughts. 
The  straightforward  truth  itself  in  all  its  simplicity 
should  be  my  aim,  ever  beseeching  deliverance  from 
iniud-befogging  collateral  speculations,  as  well  as  from 
gruat-man  worship  in  every  one  of  its  varieties. 


Besides  the  regular  subject-matter  or  historical 
notes,  which  were  largely  taken  out  by  my  assistants, 
there  was  another  class  of  notes,  allusorv  and  illus- 
trative,  which  I  was  obliged  to  take  out  for  mj'seh",  in 
order  to  obtain  satisfactorv  material  for  use.  I  hiivc 
found  these  notes  exceeilinu'lv  serviceable.  They  wrve 
made  during;  occasional  <jeneral  readimj^s  of  from  a 
woelv  to  three  months  in  duration.  So  long  as  I  could 
write  steadily  I  had  neither  time  nor  taste  ior  miscel- 
laneous reading;  but  feeling  that  a  writer  could  luvrr 
liave  too  nmch  familiarity  with  history  an<l  classical 
literature,  whenever  I  could  do  nothiniT:  else  I  read 
vi'jforously  in  that  direction,  takinix  notes  and  recording 
111}'  own  ideas.  The  substantial  facts  of  history  are 
iixed  and  determined.  When  the  objc^ct  is  to  present 
them  all  as  they  are,  without  thet)retical  bias  or  class 


I 


612 


MY  METHOD  OF  WRITING  HISTORY. 


s- 


prejudice,  with  no  desire  to  elevate  this  person,  sect, 
or  party,  or  to  humihate  or  debase  another,  there 
is  something  about  the  work  definite,  tangible,  aiul 
common  to  all  minds.  But  notes  for  purposes  of  proof, 
illustration,  or  garnishment,  such  as  Buckle  presents 
in  his  Commonplace  Book — though  there  indeed  are 
notes  of  every  class  indiscriminately  thrown  together — 
must  be  abstracted  by  the  person  using  them,  as  no 
two  minds  think  exactly  in  the  same  chaimels;  nor 
would  one  person  undertaking  to  use  notes  of  this 
kind  made  by  another  be  able  even  to  understand  in 
many  instances  oiicir  (significance  or  relevancy. 

With  the  notes  for  a  volume  all  out  and  arranged, 
and  the  plan  of  the  work  clearly  defined  in  my  mind, 
the  writing  was  comparatively  rapid.  While  the 
writing  was  actually  in  progress  I  avoided  as  nmch  as 
possil)le  all  outside  reading. 

But  at  the  completion  of  every  one  or  two  of  niy 
written  volumes,  I  ran  through  some  fifty  or  a  hun- 
dred books  which  I  had  laid  aside  to  read  as  my  eye 
had  fallen  upon  them  from  time  to  time,  taking  notes 
and  memoranda  applicable  both  to  what  I  had  written 
and  to  what  I  had  yet  to  write.  Jean  Paul  Ricliter 
was  exceedingly  careful  to  preserve  all  his  thouglits. 
"He  was  as  thought -thrifty  and  thought-storing," 
says  one,  "as  he  was  thought- wealthy."  Had  the 
time  been  at  my  disposal  I  should  have  been  a  great 
devourcr  of  books,  for  I  scarcely  ever  could  pass  a 
book  without  looking  at  it,  or  look  at  a  book  without 
wanting  to  read  it. 

"I  have  long  had  it  in  my  mind  to  speak  to  you 
upon  the  subject  of  which  this  letter  treats,"  writes 
Mr  Harcourt  to  me  the  4th  of  April  1877,  at  White 
Sulphur  springs.  "You  have  made  literature  your 
profession,  and  have  already  attained  a  position  in  tluj 
world  of  letters  which  the  vast  majority  of  those  who 
have  grown  gray  headed  and  worm-eaten  in  the  cause 
have  failed  to  reach.  This  notable  success  is  partly 
owing  to  the  wise  and  far-sighted  system  you  luivc 


HARCOURT'S  PROPOSAL. 


Gib 


adopted  of  leavinj^  to  others  the  drudgery  that  is  in- 
separable from  Hterary  labor,  and  thereby  kee})ini^ 
your  own  energies  fresh  for  tlie  part  that  is  expected 
of  genius.  You  have  carried  the  progressive  spirit  of 
the  age  into  a  quarter  where  it  is  least  expected  to 
be  found,  for  you  have  applied  machinery  to  liter- 
iiture,  and  have  almost  done  for  book-writing  wliat 
tlio  printing-press  did  for  book  dissemination.  It  is 
true  that  few  men  of  literaiy  tastes — for  is  it  not 
written  that  they  arc  all  miserably  poor? — are  in  a 
j)osition  to  avail  themselves  of  your  system,  and  I 
know  of  no  one  but  yourself  to  whom  the  sugges- 
tion I  am  about  to  make,  which  is  simply  an  exten- 
sion of  that  system,  would  be  practicable. 

"  It  is  of  course  well  know  n  to  you  that  notes  of  a 
general  character  are  indispensable  to  every  writer. 
Their  importance  and  viilue  cannot  be  overestimated. 
They  are  absolutely  requisite  for  the  attainment  of 
l)()th  brilliancy  and  accuracy.    What  makes  a  man's 
))agcs  sparkle  so  brightl}'^  as  a  judicious  and  appropri- 
ate use  of  those  'jewels  five  words  long  which  on  the 
stretclied  forefinger  of  all  time  sparkle  forever'  ?    They 
serve  to  show  the  breadth  of  his  readinti' — a  most 
laudable  vanity,  I  think,  if  kept  within  bounds — they 
inspire  respect  in  the  reader,  they  say  things  for  him 
tliat  the  writer  could  but  indifferently  express  in  his 
own  words,  and  by  obliterating  the  obnoxious  ecjo  for 
a  moment  they  stamp  his  wt>rk  with  the  mark   of 
authority.     But  I  am  sui-e  that  you  appreciate  their 
A'alue  and  desirability.     Yet  how  is  it  possible  to  have 
thorn  at  hand  without  the  use  of  notes?    A  man  can- 
not carry  in  his  head  all  the  books   he   has   read; 
neither,  though  he  has  them  all   by  heart,  will  the 
passages  and  facts  which  lui  most  admires  or  which 
ate  most  appropriate  to  his  present  purpose  occur  to 
liini  when  he  needs  them  most.     The  prejudice  which 
»  xists  against  a  common})lace  book  in  the  minds  of 
many  who  are  not  writers  is  absurd  in  the  extreme 
What  author  of  eminence  hos  been  without  one?     It 


814 


MY  METHOD  OF  WRITING  HISTORY. 


is  true  that  quotations  and  allusions  as  they  crop  out 
in  the  paji^es  do  and  should  appear  to  have  occurred 
to  the  writer  on  the  spur  of  the  moment;  but  that 
they  were  in  reality  carefully  drawn  from  his  written 
archives  and  not  from  the  calls  of  a  superhuman 
memory  is  a  compliment  to  his  industry  and  no  slur 
upon  his  learning. 

"  You  will  think  me  fearfully  long-winded,  I  know, 
but  I  come  straight  to  business  when  I  state  that  I 
should  like  to  take  general  notes  of  this  kind  for  y<"^i, 
and  what  I  have  said  was  merely  to  show,  first,  tliut 
my  taking  them  out  for  you  would  bo  perfectly  in 
accordance  with  your  views  of  the  way  in  which  such 
work  must  bo  done,  and  second,  that  such  notes  should 
be  in  your  possession. 

"I  have,  of  course, no  doubt  that  you  have  already 
a  large  collection  of  your  own ;  but  one  can  never  have 
too  many,  or  even  enough  of  them,  and  I  think  that 
I  miglit  materially  assist  you.  To  keep  himself  u]) 
with  the  literature  of  the  day  is  about  all  that  a  man 
can  attend  to  in  these  times,  and  he  has  little  lcisui(j 
for  taking  the  back-track  amonjjc  the  brain-work  of 
the  past." 

Fuw  persons  were  better  qualified  for  this  woi-k 
than  Mr  Harcourt.  No  one  possessed  finer  literal  y 
tastes  than  he;  no  one's  reading  was  of  a  wider  rann'i) 
than  his.  And  yet  for  him  to  accomplish  this  labor 
for  me  I  deemed  impracticable.  For  his  own  use  his 
notes  would  be  invaluable.  But  in  a  common[)la(i; 
book  made  for  my  use  by  Mr  Harcourt,  and  one  uiaili' 
by  Mr  Ijuckle,  or  any  other  author  for  himself,  I  couM 
see  but  little  practical  diftercnce ;  that  is  to  say,  I  mig'at 
almost  as  well  draw  my  notes  of  illustration  from  cyclo- 
piedias  and  quotation  dictionaries  already  in  use  as  to 
have  ]Mr  Harcourt  make  a  collection  specially  for  mo. 
His  would  be  on  the  whole  better,  unquestionably, 
since  I  could  direct  him  what  cateijories  to  draw  from 
and  in  what  form  to  write  them  out;  but  after  all,  the 
fact  would  remain  that  they  were  quotations,  either 


"WORK,  THE  CHIEF  DEPEIfDENCH. 


ei5 


literal  or  in  essence,  and  in  their  original  conjunctions 
they  were  worth  far  more  to  me.  Moreover,  there 
was  too  much  of  sham  in  the  proposition. 

After  all  that  may  be  said  of  inventions  and  sys- 
tems, or  even  of  ability,  work,  work  was  ever  my 
chief  dependence.  That  which  wc  call  genius  is  often 
nothing  else  than  the  natural  fjrowth  of  or'jfans  and 
faculties  which  of  necessity  grow  by  their  use.  All 
productions  are  the  result  of  labor,  physical  or  mental, 
ai)plied  to  natural  objects.  Says  Saintc-Beuvc  of  tlio 
lul)or  expended  in  writing  his  inimitable  Causcrics  da 
Landi,  or  Monday-Chats,  "I  descend  on  Tuesday  into 
a  well,  from  which  I  emerge  only  on  Sunday."  It  is 
no  small  task  even  to  edit  another  man's  work,  if  it 
be  done  thoroughly  and  conscientiously.  John  Stuart 
]\Iill,  in  editing  Bentham's  liationale  of  Judicial  Evi- 
dence, was  obliged  to  condense  three  masses  of  manu- 
script, begun  at  three  several  times,  into  a  single 
ti'catise;  he  was  likewise  to  supply  any  omissions  of 
]\Ir  Bcntham,  and  to  that  end  read  several  treatises 
on  the  law  of  evidence. 

Intellectually,  as  well  as  physically,  the  rule  holds 
good  that  he  who  will  not  work  shall  not  cat.  To 
the  rich,  therefore,  as  to  the  poor,  this  rule  applies, 
and  with  greater  intensity  it  rivets  the  rich  man's 
lH)nds.  The  most  worthless  of  us,  if  poor  enougli,  are 
luunmered  by  necessity  into  something  useful,  even 
as  the  cooper  hammers  the  leaky  barrel. 

Wealth  is  greatly  desired;  it  is  attained  only  by 
liil)or  or  sacriiice.  Learning  is  greatly  desired:  it  is 
attained  only  by  labor  or  sacriiice.  So  is  respecta- 
bility, fame,  or  any  other  fancied  good.  Air  and  sun- 
shine, indispensable  to  all,  are  not  wealth,  because 
they  are  free  to  all;  that  wliicli  lifts  one  in  any  way 
above  one's  fellows  comes  only  from  labor  or  sacriiice. 

The  work  of  man  is  distinguished  from  that  of 
boasts  in  that  it  hos  intelliixeuce  in  it.  Strictly 
speaking,  there  is  no  sucli  thing  as  purely  manual 
labor.     All  hum.an  labor  is  partly  physical  and  partly 


610 


MY  METHOD  OF  WRITING  HISTORY. 


i 


mental;  as  wc  descend  the  scale  the  physical  element 
increases  and  the  mental  decreases. 

It  is  only  the  ruder  forms  of  labor  that  bring  im- 
mediate returns;  the  more  com[)lex  productions  of 
the  mind  are  of  slower  ripening.  In  the  earlier  stages 
of  progress  muscular  exertion  is  depended  ujwn  almost 
entirely  for  supplying  the  wants  of  mankind.  ]3ut  as 
the  mind  acquires  strength  and  experience,  natural 
agents,  the  falling  water,  wind,  heat,  and  electricity, 
are  harnessed  to  mechanical  contrivances  and  made 
to  d<»  duty  as  labor-saving  machines. 

Nature  abhors  immobility.  Motion  is  the  normal 
condition  of  man  as  well  as  of  matter.  Society  is  but 
a  stream,  ever  seeking  its  level,  ever  flowing  on  toward 
the  ocean  of  eternity.  And  who  wonders  at  the  belief 
prevalent  in  certain  quarters  that  on  reaching  this 
ocean  beyond  the  shores  of  time  the  souls  of  men  are 
beaten  up  by  the  universal  sun  into  new  forms  of 
existence,  even  as  the  sun  of  our  little  system  beats 
the  waters  of  the  ocean  into  cloudy  vapor?  This  is 
the  central  idea  round  which  revolves  all  thought,  the 
central  force  from  which  radiate  all  energies,  the  gtiin 
of  all  development,  the  clearest  lesson  thrown  by 
nature  upon  the  dark  economy  of  providence,  that  in 
labor  and  sorrow  are  rest  and  happiness,  that  in  decay 
there  is  growth,  in  the  dust  of  death  the  budding 
flowers  of  inmiortality. 

Experience  alone  must  be  the  teacher  of  those  who 
strike  out  into  new  paths;  meanwhile  old  ways  must 
satisfy  the  more  conservative.  Learning  from  experi- 
ence is  a  different  thing  from  learning  by  experience. 
All  the  wealth  of  Russia  could  not  teach  Peter  the 
Great  how  to  build  a  ship;  but  a  day-laborer  in  a 
Dutch  dock-yard  could  reveal  to  him  the  mystery, 
and  speedily  it  unfolded  within  him. 

Before  genius  is  application.  The  mind  must  be 
fertilized  by  knowledge  and  made  prolific  by  indus- 
try. With  all  the  marvellous  energetic  training  of 
his  son,  which   alone  made   him  the  man  he  was, 


SO^IETIIIXO  FOR  EVERY  ONE  TO  DO. 


017 


the  father  of  John  Stuart  Mill  failed  to  implant  in 
him  practical  energy.  He  moxlo  him  know  rather 
tlian  do.  Many  men  there  have  been  of  great  ca- 
j)abilities  and  zeal  who  have  expended  their  energies 
on  energy  alone;  that  is  to  say,  they  were  ready 
enougli  to  begin  a  great  task,  and  would  begin  many 
such, and  labor  at  them  with  brave  conscientiousness; 
but  so  high  was  their  standard  and  so  keen  the  sense 
of  their  own  imperfections,  that  after  a  lifetime  of 
futile  study  and  elaboration  they  sank  beneath  tlieir 
burden,  the  child  of  their  excessive  labor  being  still- 
born and  never  seeing  the  light. 

Surely  each  of  us  may  do  something;  may  leave 
a  bequest  as  beneficial  to  our  race  as  that  of  Hiero- 
cles,  joke-compiler  of  the  fifth  century,  who  after  the 
arduous  labors  of  a  lifetime  left  to  the  world  a  legacy 
of  twenty-one  jokes  which  he  had  collected.  And  if 
they  were  good  jokes  he  might  have  done  worse;  like 
many  another  of  more  pretentious  wisdom,  he  might 
li.'ve  died  and  left  no  joke  at  all.  For,  as  Goethe 
;:iys: 

"Soil  doch  nicht  als  ein  Pilz  der  Mcnsch  dcm  BoUcn  entwochsen, 
Und  vcrfaulen  gcschwind  on  dem  Platzc,  der  ihn  crzeugt  hat, 
Keiue  Spur  uachlassead  voa  seiner  Icbendigcn  Wirkung!" 


1! 

j 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

FURTHER    INGATHERINGS. 

Daa  Wcnigo  vorschwindet  Iciclit  dciii  Blicke, 
Dor  vorwiirta  sieht,  wio  viel  noch  iibrig  blcibt. 

Goethe. 

With  Goethe  I  might  truly  say  at  this  juncture 
that  the  httle  I  had  done  seemed  iiothinuc  when  I 
loolced  forward  and  saw  how  much  there  remained  to 
be  done.  Whatever  else  I  had  in  hand,  never  for  a 
moment  did  I  lose  siglit  of  the  important  M^ork  of  col- 
lecting. Moved  by  the  increasing  importance  given 
to  facts  and  points  of  detail  in  the  imhictive,  moral, 
and  physical  science  of  the  age,  I  regarded  with  deep 
longing  the  reach  of  territory  marked  out,  where 
so  much  loss  and  destruction  were  jj^oiinj^  on,  and  at 
such  a  rapid  rate.  My  desires  were  insatiable.  Si» 
thoroughly  did  I  realize  how  ri[)e  was  the  hiu'vost 
and  how  few  the  laborers,  how  rapidly  was  sli[)[»ing 
from  mortal  grasp  golden  opportunity,  that  I  restctl 
neither  ilay  nor  night,  but  sought  to  secure  from  those 
thus  [)assing  away,  all  within  my  power  to  save  beioiv 
it  was  too  late.  With  the  history  (jf  the  coast  avvv 
before  me  as  the  grandest  of  unaccomplished  ideas,  1 
gathered  day  by  tlay  all  scraps  of  information  upon 
which  I  could  lay  my  hands. 

Among  my  earliest  attempts  to  secure  origiu.il 
documents  from  original  sources  Avas  the  sending  nt' 
Bosquetti  to  San  Jose  and  Sacramento  in  ISOD,  ns 
previously  related.  Long  before  this,  however,  while 
collectinLif  information  for  the  statistical  works  issurd 
by  the  firm,  I  had  secured  a  little  material  of  a  local 
character,  but  nothing  of  a  very  important  nature. 

(018) 


DATA  FOR  CALIFORNIA  HISTORY. 


619 


The  conception  first  assumed  more  definite  form  in 
the  brief  sketches  of  notable  pioneers,  or  indeed  of 
any  one  who  had  come  to  the  country  prior  to  1840; 
indeed,  at  the  time  of  beijf inning  my  work  the  popular 
idea  of  a  history  of  California  dated  in  reality  from 
the  comincif  of  the  Americans.  All  before  that  was 
shadowy,  if  not.  indeed,  inythologic.  At  all  events  it 
was  generally  supposed  to  be  something  no  one  knew 
much  about,  and  the  little  that  coukl  be  ascertained 
was  not  worth  the  writintj:  or  the  readiniTf.  The  liijos 
del  pain  were  regarded  as  being  nothing,  as  having 
done  nothing,  as  boinu:  ^djle  to  communicate  nothIni>", 
and  would  not  tell  of  themselves  or  of  the  past  if 
they  could;  so  that  at  this  period  of  my  investi- 
qations  a  white  man  who  had  ronie  to  the  country  in 
IS4()  or  in  1848  was  a  magazine  of  historical  infor- 
mation. 

No  inconsiderable  results  attended  these  eiforts 
even  at  an  early  day.  Quite  a  number  of  piiMieers 
responded  to  ap})eals  made  them  by  letter,  and  scut  in 
their  written  statements.  Some  called  at  the  library 
and  gave  in  their  testimony  there.  Up  through  Xa[)a 
valley,  into  the  Lake  country,  and  Ijack  by  Clover- 
dali'  jnid  Santa  llosa,  I  made  a  hasty  trip  in  1871. 
About  this  time  I  enijacjcd  ^Ir  Montufomerv,  editor 
of  a  Xapa  newspaper,  to  furnish  some  sketches  I'rom 
oriijjinal  sources  of  the  e\))Lrien  -es  of  early  sL-ttlers. 
From  the  secretary  of  the  society  of  California 
pioneers  I  obtained  the  names  of  those  whose  ad- 
ventures were  deemed  worlliy  of  record,  and  sent 
men  to  take  their  statements.  "There  should  be  a 
clii'onic'le  kept,"  says  J)oet(n'  Johnson,  "in  every  con- 
siderable i'amily,  to  preserve  the  eharaeters  and  ti'ans- 
actions  of  successive  generations." 

At  Sacramento,  at  Salt  Lake  City,  and  elsewlitTO 
in  m}'  travels  about  the  l\ieiiic  coast,  I  made  additions 
irom  time  to  time  to  this  very  valuable  part  of  my 
collection.  Some'  of  tile  ellbrts  and  expeililions  made 
by  mo  and  by  my  assistants  in  search  of  historical 


620 


FURTHER  INGATHERINGS. 


(lata  I  give  in  this  volume,  but  thrice  as  much  must 
forever  remain  untold. 

Long  before  I  made  my  memorable  journey  to  the 
north,  where  I  received  such  a  warm  reception  and 
cordial  aid  in  every  quarter,  particularly  in  I'uijjet 
sound,  I  received  from  the  author,  tlie  honorable 
Elwood  Evans  of  Olympia,  early  in  1873,  a  manu- 
scri[)t  histoiy  <»f  Oregon  and  the  great  north-west, 
v»ith  permission  to  co])y  the  same,  and  to  use  it  at  my 
disci-etion.  Mr  Evans  was  a  highly  talented  member 
of  the  l)ar,  a  ripe  scholar,  a  graceful  writer,  and  a  man 
thoroughly  i'amiliar  with  the  history  of  those  parts, 
where  he  had  i-esided  the  greater  portion  of  his  lile. 
His  histoiy  had  been  carefully  written,  and  had 
many  times  undergone  critical  revision  by  those  who 
had  taken  part  in  the  develo[)ment  of  the  country; 
for  exami)le,  bv  Sir  James  l)ou<'las  and  W.  F.  Tolniie, 
of  Victoria,  touching  the  o})ci'ations  of  the  Hudson's 
Bay  Company,  of  which  those  gentlemen  were  ehict" 
officers  for  a  quarter  of  a  century  or  more.  I  need 
not  say  that  this  manuscript  was  of  the  greatest  value 
to  me  in  writing  the  IHstofij  of  the  X<  n't  hurst  C<><isf. 
or  that  ^[r  Evans  is  entitled,  aside  from  my  heart-feh. 
thanks,  to  the  highest  praise  for  his  singular  and  dis- 
interested magnanimity  in  permitting  me  to  copy  and 
use  so  important  a  manuscript,  which  he  had  written 
for  publication.  A  strangtn*  to  !Mr  Evans  might  iv- 
gard  his  conduct  as  peculiar,  but  one  ac(piainted  witli 
him  would  not.  Years  before  I  hail  any  thought  ol' 
writing  history  I  had  known  him,  and  had  hehl  him 
in  high  esteeni.  Far  above  all  common[)lace  or  \)vv- 
sonal  views  of  what  ail'ected  the  general  good,  his 
mind,  to  me,  seemed  cast  in  other  than  the  ordinary 
mould.  At  all  events  1  was  impressed  by  ]\Ir  I"]vaiis 
as  by  one  dwelling  apart  in  an  atmosphere  of  higli- 
miiidedness  such  as  few  of  his  fellows  could  under- 
staiul,  nmch  less  attain  to. 

Mr  James  G.  »S\van  of  Port  Townscnd,  author  of 


RUSSIAN-AMERICAN  MATERIAL. 


621 


The  Northwent  Coast,  made  the  subject  of  the  coast 
tribes  a  special  study  for  some  tweuty  years.  "I  find 
a  deal  of  error,"  lie  writes  me  the  22d  of  February 
1875,  "in  the  accounts  of  the  early  voyagers,  partic- 
ularly in  their  speculative  theories  in  relation  to  tlu> 
natives;  nor  is  this  surprising  when  we  rellect  that  at 
that  early  day  the  whites  and  Indians  did  not  under- 
stand eac'i  )ther,  but  conversed  mostly  by  signs  and 
jiantoniime.  None  of  these  early  voyagers  remained 
at  any  one  place  long  enough  to  acquire  the  native 
language;  hence  we  find  so  much  of  error.  ]']vcn 
most  modern  writers  have  passed  over  this  region 
rapidly,  and  have  jotted  down  their  ideas  without 
l;n()wing  or  caring  whether  they  were  correct  or  not." 
!Mr  Stephen  Powers  gave  me  the  use  of  an  unpub- 
lished manuscript  cm  the  manners  and  customs  of 
certain  native  Californiau  tribes  amonj;  which  he  had 
spent  nuidi  time. 

For  material  for  the  history  of  Alaska  I  applied 
ill  1874  by  letter  to  the  Russian  consul  in  San 
Francisco,  ]\[artin  Klinkofstrcim,  who  forwarded  my 
cf)mmunication  to  the  academy  of  sciences  in  St 
Petersburg.  It  happened  at  this  time  that  my  friend 
Aljihonse  Pinart,  tlie  distinguished  Amcricanish'  who 
had  published  sevei'al  works  on  the  Pacific  coast, 
more  particularly  of  an  ethnological  and  linguistic  char- 
acter, was  pursuing  his  investigations  in  St  Petersburg, 
and  to  him  the  consul's  letter  was  referred.  Monsi(nir 
A.  Schiefner,  member  of  the  academy,  writing  the  Gth 
of  June  1875, says:  "Si  vous  trouverez  que  1'  academie 
vous  pourra  utro  utile  commc  intermediairc  elle  sera 
toil  jours  {I  vos  services." 

]\l.  Pinart  had  been  engaged  for  two  years  past  in 
collecting  material  on  the  early  settlement  of  the 
Iiussians  on  leering  sea  and  the  north-we.st  coast,  and 
<»ii  the  establishment  and  abandonment  by  the  Iius- 
sians of  Fort  Ross,  in  California.  For  this  purpose 
he  had  visited  Alaska,  searched  Franco  and  Germany, 


622 


FURTHER  IXGATHERIXGS. 


and  was  now  in  St  l^etcrsburg.  Writing  from  that 
city  the  Otli  of  February  1875,  ho  offers  to  place;  at 
iny  free  (hsposition  all  such  books  and  documents  as 
lie  had  found  upon  the  subject.  Indeed,  he  was  offi- 
cially notiiied  so  to  do  by  M.  Schiefner,  to  wIkmu  my 
best  thanks  are  due,  and  who  granted  INI.  Pinart  every 
facility,  both  on  his  own  account  and  mine. 

M.  Pinart  concludes  his  letter  as  follows:  "I  must 
tell  you  that  the  archives  of  Russia  are  very  jioor  in 
documents  relating  to  Russian  America,  they  having 
been  in  some  way  destroyed.  I  was  able  to  put  my 
hand  only  on  very  few  of  them.  ]\Tost  of  the  notices 
relating  to  the  colonies  are  printed  in  papers  or  re- 
views, some  of  them  exceedingly  difficult  to  find." 
Pinart  M'as  to  bo  in  San  Francisco  the  following 
autunm,  and  was  to  bring  with  him  all  his  matei'ial. 
This  he  did,  adding  rich  treasures  to  my  library.  Of 
such  books  and  manuscripts  as  he  had  in  duplicate,  I 
took  one;  the  rest  were  copied  in  full  in  a  translation 
made  for  me  by  ^Ir  Ivan  PetrofT. 

A  few  words  more  upon  the  antecedents  and  efforts 
of  this  navaiif:  Alphonse  L.  Pinart  was  born  at  ^lar- 
quise,  France,  and  followed  the  common  course  of 
French  schools  in  Lille  and  Paris.  At  an  early  day 
a  strong  taste  for  languages  maniiested  itself,  so  nuidi 
so  tliat  during  his  leisure  hours  at  college  he  applied 
himself  to  the  study  of  Sanscrit;  later  he  atteudctl 
tlu!  lectures  of  Stanislas  Julien  cm  the  Chinese,  jmd 
of  A.  Dos  ^lichels  on  the  Cochin  Chinese.  During 
the  int(M-national  exposition  of  1SG7  in  Paris,  he  made 
the  ac<|U;untance  of  the  Abbe  ]3rasseur  de  l]ourbourg, 
who  had  spent  a  considei'able  ])ortion  of  his  life  iis 
missionary  at  Rabinal,  Guatemala,  and  was  afterwai'd 
for  a  time  in  ^lexico.  Through  this  dlstingui,4i(  d 
man  M.  Pinart  became  interested  in  the  Naluia  and 
JNIaya  languages;  and  i'rom  that  date  he  turned  his 
attention  toward  things  vVmerican,  prosecuting  his 
studies  in  this  direction  with  ever  increasing  interest 
until  1801),  when  ho  came  to  California. 


MEXICO  AXD  CENTRAL  AMERICA. 


623 


In  1870-2  ]\r.  Pinart  visited  Alaska,  and  acquired 
knowlcdLjc  of  the  lanijiia'jfes  and  custonis  of  the 
Aleut  and  Kolosli  nations.  Ilcturning  to  Europe  in 
187'2  he  was  awarded  the  gold  medal  of  the  French 
geor^raphical  society  for  his  explorations  on  the  north- 
west c(jast  of  America.  Afterward  ^I.  Pinart  spent 
much  time  within  the  territory  of  the  Pacilic  States, 
livinj^  with  the  aborigines,  and  studying  their  charac- 
ter and  languages.  iJurint;  1874-G  he  was  in  Arizona, 
Sonora,  Utah,  Idaho,  Oregon,  Washington,  British 
Columbia,  and  the  South  Sea  islands, 

In  1873  jNI.  Pinart  purchased  a  portion  of  the 
libraiy  of  Brasscur  de  Bourbourg,  and  after  the  death 
of  the  abl)e,  in  January  1874,  tlie  rest  of  his  books 
and  manuscripts  fell  into  Pinart  s  hands.  "J'o  all  of 
these  ^I,  Pinart  most  goncnnisly  gave  me  free  access, 
and  further  to  facilitate  my  labors,  boxed  such  portions 
of  thoni  as  I  required  for  my  history  and  sent  them 
to  my  library.  After  I  had  used  them,  they  were 
returned  to  Marquise,  where  his  collection  was  kept. 

To  Innokentie,  metropolitan  of  ^loscow,  lohan 
Vcniaminof,  llussian  missionary  to  the  Aleut,-;,  to 
Achuiral  Lutke,  and  to  Etholine,  formerly  governor 
of  tlie  Russian- American  possessions,  I  am  likewise 
indebted  for  favors. 


At  an  early  date  in  those  annals  I  placed  mj'self  in 
correspondence  with  the  heads  of  governments  lying 
within  the  territory  whose  history  and  literature 
I  sought  to  serve.  In  every  instance  my  overtures 
met  with  a  warm  response.  The  presidents  of  the 
^lexican  and  Cc^ntral  American  republics,  and  all 
governors  of  states  to  whom  I  deemetl  it  advisable 
t(»  explain  the  character  of  my  work,  replietl  by  oll'er- 
ing  me  every  facility  at  their  command.  I\Iy  object 
ill  this  correspondence  had  a  nmch  broader  signiti- 
cance  than  the  outpouring  of  comi)limeiits.  As  this 
was  some  time  previous  to  my  acquisition  of  the 
valuable  works  from  the  collection  of  E.  G.  Squier, 


624 


FURTHER  INGATHERINGS. 


I  liad  folt  the  lack  of  Central  American  material 
more  than  of  any  other  kind.  In  writing  the  first 
volumes  of  my  history,  while  I  had  abundance  of 
material  for  a  history  of  the  conquest  of  ]\Iexico,  I 
found  myself  in  the  possession  of  less  bearing  upon 
the  history  of  the  conquest  of  the  more  southern 
parts ;  and  of  further  material  for  modern  history 
I  was  also  in  want.  I  therefore  directed  Cerruti  to 
make  energetic  appeals  to  the  supreme  authorities 
of  these  extreme  southern  states  of  my  territory,  and 
to  explain  the  object,  progress,  and  importance  of  the 
work.  Indeed,  I  asked  no  great  favors,  nothing  but 
access  to  their  historic  archives. 

Despite  the  partisan  strife  which  had  thrown  the 
Central  American  states  into  disorder,  it  gave  me 
much  pleasure  to  find  that  my  eftbrts  to  establish  a 
history  of  the  indigenous  and  imported  races,  abo- 
riginal, Latin,  and  Anglo-Saxon,  of  western  Nortli 
America,  would  receive  the  support  of  these  govern- 
ments. It  was  here  that  aboriginal  civilization  had 
attained  its  fullest  proportions,  and  it  was  here  that 
the  European  first  placed  foot  on  North  American 
soil.  These  states  were  stepping-stones,  as  it  were, 
to  the  history  of  the  more  northern  countries.  Hert' 
begins  our  history  proper.  Keplete  are  the  early 
chronicles  with  the  doings  of  the  comjiiistadores  in 
this  region;  and  although  their  prominence  is  no 
longer  what  it  once  was,  although  history  liad 
troubled  itself  little  of  late  with  their  petty  conllicts, 
yet  they  had  followed  in  the  wake  of  progress,  and, 
what  was  more  to  the  point,  they  now  display e<  I  a 
commendable  interest  in  the  historical  literature;  of 
their  country.  Some  went  much  further  than  this, 
even  so  far  as  to  appoint  commissioners  to  obtain 
and  forward  me  material.  This  did  the  presidents 
of  Salvador  and  Nicaragua.  Gonzalez,  president  nt' 
the  republic  of  Salvador,  in  his  letter  of  the  2Jd 
of  August  1874  speaks  with  regret  of  the  disregard 
shown  in  Europe  for  the  history  of  Central  America, 


GONZALEZ,  BRIOSO,  CUADRA,  SELVA. 


625 


and  the  consequent  ignorance  of  Europeans  as  to  the 
real  importance  of  that  magnificent  country.  lie  is 
profuse  in  his  appreciation  of  my  efforts  in  that 
tlirection.  "  La  simple  enunciacion  del  nombre  del 
libro  que  U.  prcpara,"  he  writes,  "seri'a  bastante 
jiara  intcrcsar  en  su  favor  d  todo  bucn  Americano;" 
and  as  sucli  a  one  he  proffers  his  services,  M.  Brioso, 
minister  of  foreign  rt'lations,  seemed  to  shai-e  the  pres- 
ident's feelings.  "Los  hombres  de  saber,"  he  writes 
the  2Gth  of  May,  "los  hombres  de  pensamiento,  los 
liondircs  de  Estado  han  saludado  con  entusiasmo  su 
j)rimera  entrega." 

No  less  appreciative  was  his  excellency  the  presi- 
dent of  Nicaragua,  Vicente  Cuadra.  Writing:  to 
Ccrruti  from  Managua  the  12th  of  December  1874, 
lie  says:  "Tengo  la  satisfaccion  de  decirle  que  el 
coinisionado  del  Gobierno,  Seilor  don  Carlos  Selva, 
})ara  reunir  i  remitir  a  U.  documentos  relatives  d 
Nicaragua  eumplc  fiel  i  aetivamente  su  comision,  y 
<[ue  ha  liecho  ya  algunas  remesas  que  deseo  scan 
I'ltiles  al  ilustrado  Bancroft."  I  fouml  that  civil  war 
liud  unfortunately  swept  the  country*  of  many  of  its 
archives.  "Siento  verdaderamente,"  says  President 
Cuadra,  "que  los  archives  de  este  pais  lia3"an  sido 
(Itstruidos  6  deteriorados  d  consecuencia  de  las  vicisi- 
tudes." 

Under  date  of  September  22,  1874,  the  commis- 
sioner Carlos  Selva  MTotc  Cerruti  that  he  had  already 
l)ugun  the  collecting  of  documents  for  the  history  of 
Nicaragua,  and  flattered  himself  tiiat  he  should  be 
able  to  accunmlate  a  number  sufficient  to  enable  me 
tu  write  the  history  of  that  country  at  least  from 
the  date  of  Central  American  inde[)endence.  At  the 
feauie  time  the  commissioner  shipped  a  (juantity  of 
documents  relating  not  oidy  to  Nicaragua  but  to  her 
sister  republics.  Nor  did  his  kindness  stop  there: 
for  years  thereafter  he  was  alive  to  my  wants,  not 
only  as  regarded  manuscripts  and  original  documents, 
but  ;)rinted  journals  and  bound  books.     The  Nica- 

LlT.  IND.      40 


i 


'i] 


m. 
(•■it 


ill 


036 


FURTHEll  IXGATIIERIXGS. 


raguari  secretary  of  forciMii  iel.it ions,  A.  ^I.  Rivas, 
writes  the  2(1  of  November  that  private  individuals 
as  well  as  the  public  authorities  were  respoiKfin^- 
in  the  most  satisfactory  manner  to  the  a|)peal  maiK; 
by  the  government  for  historical  data  lor  my  use. 
The  secretary  hoped  the  d<tcunu;nts  already  sent  had 
safely  arrived;  and  regretted  tlie  loss  of  a  great  part 
of  the  archives  of  the  rej)ubiie,  they  having  been 
destroyed  when  in  ISaG  Granada  was  Imrned  by  the 
fdibusters. 

The  I  Ith  of  December  Vicente  Cuadra  in  an  auin- 
graph  letter  ex})resses  the  great  interest  he  personally 
as  well  as  officially  takes  in  my  literary  etlbrts,  and 
his  satisfaction  in  knowing  that  the  connnissioncr 
appointed  by  liiiu  was  most  active  in  the  discharge 
of  his  duties. 

Tn  an  autograph  letter  <lated  at  Guatemala  the  Ith 
of  Dccend)er  1874,  his  oxceHeney  J.  Kulino  ]jaii-i(f>, 
|)resident  of  the  rej)ublic,  ap[)t'ai'ed  keenly  alive  t(»  (lie 
im[)ortance  of  the  work,  and  desired  detailed  informa- 
tion I'egarding  the  kind  of  material  sought,  in  ordrr 
that  he  might  the  more  undei'standingly  coajieiatf. 
On  recxMving  my  reply,  he  went  to  work  with  a  /.cal 
second  to  that  of  none  of  his  neighbors.  After  tins 
who  shall  say  that  the  repuldies  of  Central  America 
are  one  whit  behind  the  foremost  nations  of  the  world 
in  their  interest  and  active  zeal  toward  securing  a 
[)roper  record  of  the  annals  of  thidr  country! 

OiK!  aftei'iioon  in  ^lay  1874  Father  Kitzsimons, 
an  intelligent  and  charitable  member  of  the  onlcr 
of  St  Dominic,  called  at  the  library  and  infoi-ni'd 
me  that  tiie  jii'iests  of  his  order  lately  exiled  lV"ni 
Central  America,  had  in  many  instances,  in  oi'dfi' 
to  })revent  their  valuable  libraries  from  falling  int" 
the  hands  of  the  government,  delivered  them  to  tin- 
natives  to  be  hidden  until  they  should  call  for  tin  ni; 
and  to  strangers  these  custotlians  would  undoubtedly 
deny  the  existence  of  any  such  books.  The  supei  ior 
of  the  order,  Father  A'^illaiasa,  who  resided  at  Beni-  ia, 


TITE  VROA  DOCUMENTS.  0J7 

heing  in  rorrespoiuleiico  witli  many  of  the  Central 
American  i)riests  who  were  then  returning  from  tli«^ir 
late  exile,  kindly  interested  himself  to  procure  for 
ine  through  an  authorized  agent  njaterial  for  history 
from  that  source. 

As  regards  historical  material  at  Panam;!,  ^Nfr  H. 
Lefevre,  writing  Cerruti  fiom  that  city  the  8th  of 
.lune  1874,  says: 

"  Hiul  it  not  l)ceii  for  tho  late  (liaastroiis  fire,  I  could  liavo  furiii.sheil  Mr 
litincroft  with  iiivaliiulilo  data  touching  tlic  history  of  the  Isthmus  from  tin; 
time  of  its  first  sottk'incut,  for  my  fatiior-in-law,  Doctor  Joae  I'\  do  la  Ossn, 
has  given  much  of  his  leisure  during  the  last  forty  years  to  collecting 
oi'jginal  documents  from  all  parts,  even  from  .Seville,  Spain,  for  a  work  he 
had  undertaken  toucliing  the  political  history  of  the  Isthmus.  However,  a.s 
it  is,  the  doctor  may  have  .saved  something;  in  fact,  I  myself  succeedeii  in 
netting  several  lots  of  docinncnts  and  manuscripts  out  of  tho  l)urning  huiid 
iiiu'.  15ut  at  present  tho  old  gentleman  is  too  much  troid)Ied  to  atteml  to 
:iiiything  of  tho  kind.  I  have  spoken  to  him  of  your  rciiuost,  and  he  haa 
piumiseil  to  write  you  lengtliily  aftei-  he  get.sa  little  settled. " 

At  my  re(|uest,  in  IHSii  M.  Pinart  visited  Panamd 
niid  s(!nt  me  a  \V(>11  HIUmI  trunk  of  tlie  most  importai^fc 
.ivailahle  papeis  as  the  result  of  his  etlbrts  on  that 
occasion.  Seized  hy  fevei"  then  raging,  he  narrowly 
cs(;a]HHl  from  tlie  place  with  his  Tde. 

Soon  aft(T  tlie  war  in  Mexico,  which  grew  out  of 
the  Prencli  intervention,  (Jieneral  Phicido  Yega,  com- 
iii.inder  under  Juarez,  hrought  or  sent  to  San  Fran- 
cisco i'or  safe-kee|»ing  two  hoxes  of  documents.  One 
was  deposited  with  tlie  ('alii'ornia  trust  company 
and  the  other  in  tlieA'allejo  hank  hoth  heiiig  sul>ject 
to  charges  at  the  rate  of  two  dollai's  a  month. 

Tho  boxes  were  dejiosited  in  the  name  of  (General 
^'allt>jo  in  187'2,  and  for  three  y(>ars  thereafter  noth- 
ing was  heard  in  California  fi-oin  A'ega.  Astlu-re  was 
little  prol)ahility  that  the  packages  would  ever  he 
called  for,  (general  Vallejo  sent  to  the  lil)rary  the 
lio\  which  was  at  the  Vallejo  bank,  and  sent  me  an 
older  for  the  one  at  the  trust  company's.  1  was  to 
IMV  the  charijes  and  hold  the  docuin(!nts  for  a  rea- 
tenable  time  subject  to  Vega's  order,   in  case  they 


i 


FURTHER  INGATHERINGS. 


I  I 
I  I 


were  ever  called  for.  Should  Vcfja  never  demand  the 
boxes  the  contents  would  Ijc  mine. 

"  I  have  opoMod  the  tin  box,"  writes  Cerruti  of  on(^ 
(.f  thoni  the  11th  of  IMay  1875,  "and  found  it  filled 
with  very  important  historical  letters.  Mr  Savat;(  , 
who  assisted  nie  in  the  inspection,  leans  to  the  belict" 
that  they  ought  to  be  copied.  ]>ut  I  entertain  a  dif- 
ferent view,  because,  the  box  beiiig  in  debt  four  hun- 
dred dollars"— this  was  Cerruti's  jharacteristic  way  (jf 
writiiiij:  one  hundred  and  fortv-four  dollars,  that  beiuL;' 
the  amount  due  on  both  the  boxes  up  to  this  date — 
"  I  do  not  think  it  lik(dy  that  the  relatives  of  (jrcnoral 
Veixa  will  ever  claim  it.  I  believe,  however,  that  an 
index  would  not  be  out  of  place,  for  it  would  facilitate 
the  labor  of  the  historian." 

General  Yo<j;ii  had  taken  a  prominent  part  in  the  pub- 
lic affairs  of  ^lexico.  He  was  intrusted  by  Juan^z  with 
important  connnissions.  These  boxes  of  official  and 
private  (correspondence,  accounts,  etc.,  which  were  of 
no  small  consecpu-nce  to  the  history  of  that  peiiod, 
were  never  called  for. 


TJotween  the  years  187r)  and  1880,  with  official  per- 
missifm  obtainc^d  throuu'h  the  efforts  of  General  Vallejn 
while;  on  a  visit  to  Mexico  in  company  with  his  S(»ii- 
in-law,  Fi'isbie,  I  had  copies  made  of  some  of  tin- 
more  important  manuscripts  lodged  in  the  govern- 
ment archives  of  the  city  of  Mexico.  This  work  was 
superintended  by  my  friend  I'^llis  Read,  to  whom  I 
tender  thanlcs. 

!Mr  11.  i\  Corbale}-  of  the  law  department  of  the 
business,  attem[)te(l  in  1881  to  obtain  legislative  sanc- 
tion to  transfer  the  archives  of  New  ^lexico  for  a  time 
to  my  library.  They  were  in  a  deplorable  c<jnditi<iii, 
and  I  offered,  if  this  was  done,  to  collate  and  \n\A 
them  at  my  own  cost.  The  proposal  failing,  I  \v:is 
obliged  to  go  thither  and  have  extracted  such  inl'ei- 
mation  as  1  required. 

Before  the  visit  of  Dom  Pedro  de  Alcantara,  em- 


THF,  SQUIER  MANUSCRiraS. 


G29 


])oror  of  Brazil,  to  San  Franci.sco,  I  had  sent  au 
Iiujuiry  through  the  Italian  consul  to  the  imperial 
library  at  liio  Janeiro  concerninj^  (locunjents  lor 
Central  American  histoi y.  When  the  emperor  was 
in  San  Francisco  in  187G  ho  several  times  visited  my 
library,  scemd  to  bo  much  interested  in  tlie  work, 
md  promised  me  every  assistance  in  his  power. 

In  the  seventh  chapter  of  this  volume  I  ha\.) 
-|)oken  of  the  sale  in  187G  of  the  Squicr  collection. 
Mr  E.  (Jr.  Squier  was  apjiointed  in  1840  chart^u 
dalFaires  to  (luatemala.  lie  orj^anizcd  a  conijiany 
tor  constructiuLj  an  interoceaiiic  railwav  thiouiili 
Honduras,  and  assisted  in  surveying  a  route  in  1853. 
In  18G8  ho  acted  for  a  time  as  United  States  consul- 
general  to  llontluras.  ])esides  h'[>^  yicanujua,  Scrjunit 
Si/mho/,  Xotcs  on  O'nirtil  Aincrieri,  WdiliKi,  and  llvn- 
diu'((s,  he  published  scvoi'al  minor  woi'ks. 

Squii.'r's  collection  l)ore  the  same  relation  to  Cen- 
ti-al  America  that  Soi'ior  Andradc's  (Ud  to  ^[oxico. 
It  was  by  far  the  best  in  existence,  better  than  he 
himself  could  a<jfain  make  c^ven  if  ho.  had  twentv  years 
more  in  which  to  attemjjt  it.  ]Most  fortunate  was 
tliis  sale  for  me,  for  it  enai)led  n»e  to  strengthen  my 
liltiary  at  its  weakest  point.  I  had  found  it  very 
(liflicult  to  gather  more  than  the  few  current  works 
<^n  this  part  of  my  territory;  and  now  were  poured 
into  my  lap  in  one  magnificent  .shower  treasures 
which  1  had  never  dared  to  expect.  By  this  pur- 
I  liaso  I  added  to  the  library  about  six  Jumdred  vol- 
umes, but  the  number  was  not  connnensurate  with  the 
iniitv  and  value  of  the  works. 

It  was  owing  to  the  death  of  ^tr  Squier  that  his 
•  nllection  was  sold.  It  consisted  of  over  two  thousand 
hooks,  sots  of  pamphlets,  maps,  and  manuscripts. 

liy  this  i)archase  I  secured,  among  other  things, 
a  scries  of  bound  manuscripts  of  sixteenth-century 
documents  copied  I'rom  the  Spanish  libraries,  such  as 
iMvila — reports  by  this  renowned  conquistador  and 


nso 


FURTlinn  IN'OATIlRniXOS. 


(.'oinnules  in  l"il!>  to  1524  on  inattors  rolatinj^  to 
tlio  confjucst  of  l^aimnul  iind  Nicarui^ua;  Ccrczcda — 
letters  of  1 529- 1533  on  Xicamgua  and  TionduriK 
afl'airs;  (irija/ra,  llchw'ioii  dc  In  Joniadd,  1533,  to 
the  South  Sea;  I\'dro  de  Alranido-  AAivvn,  153.". 
to  1541,  on  the  eonqiiost  of  (jriiateinala  and  the  |ir<> 
jt>cted  niar'itlnie  expedition;  Andtu/oi/a  —letters  i>ii 
a  Pananui  eanal  to  connect  the  t\v»»  oceans;  Crnfrnf 
America  II  collection  of  letters  and  ri'poits,  1545  li. 
1555;  l)esid(!  which  W(!re  a  lar!L,^e  nuniher  of  siniilai 
<locunients,  hound  under  vai'ious  names,  and  helonijiini^ 
to  the  sixte-enth  and  seventeenth  eentui'ies. 

Thi-n    then;   was   a    lar^'e   set  relatini^    to   a   nunc 
northei-n    district.  enlitle<l    MalcrKilcs   p((ra  la  J  lis 
toria  dc  SoiHH'd,  cont.'iiniiin'  letters  Mud   reports  from 
friars  and  ollicials  c(»j)ied  from  the  Mexican  ai'chivi-. 
such  ;is  Ziirita,  JJrci'c  ij  Sniuaria  llclacion,  1554,  D<' 
scripcioii  dc  la  America,  1701-10,  and  others. 

Tile   most   noteuortliy   amonj.^'   tlie    printed    work- 
fi'om  the  Squier  collection  were  Lcitn  Pinelo,  Tralo  <!< 
Cdii/iriiuieioiies  Itcalcs  dc  J'Jiici»iiicnd((s,  ]\lndi'id,  |Ci:ln, 
hearini.,^  on    the  oicomienda  system   of   New   Sjtain. 
Jiclacioii  sohrc.  .  .  Lacandoi),  1(538,  by  the  same  author, 
toi^etlu'r  with  Villiiquiian's  aj>])ointment  as  t^overnor 
there,  !<].")'.>,  a  very  rare  and  uiii(|Ui'  co[)y,  treat ini;-  el" 
a  jouiiiey  which  creati'd  iL;ivat  excitemi'nt,  at  the  tinn: 
(rcmclli    (Jarrcri,   (iir<>   del  Moiido,  part    vi.,   Xn])eli. 
1721,    heiiiL"'   a   record    of   his    ohservations    in    N-u 
Spain;  I'astfiH--:,  C/iroidca  dc  la  J*roriiicia.  .  .dc  (fiiaf^ 
mala,  (Guatemala,  1714,  tom.  i..  a  I'are  woi-k ;  Jitarr<>:. 
Coinpoidio  de  la  Historia  dc  (iuatciuala,  Guatemala. 
1808-18,  in  two  volumes,  indi.spen.sable  to  the  liiste.ix 
of  the  state;  Iiobles,  Mcniorias  para  hi  ilisturin  dr 
Chiapa,  Cadiz,  1813;  Pelacz,  Mcmurias  para  la  //'•> 
toria  del  Antiijua  Guatemala,  in  three  volumes.     In 
addition  to  the  above  wore  many  important  worl 
which  I  cannot  enumerate,  bearing  on  history,  cnl 
nization,  politics,  and  exj)loration,  and  narratives  < 
travel   and   residence,  in    Eu'^lish,   Spanish,  FrencI 


Tni:  CTAii  pnor>Li:M. 


on  I 


Gcvrnan,  iiuA  Ttaliaii,  aii«l  several  volunu's  of  Central 
American  newspapers. 

During  the  winter  of  1881-2  bonie  valuablo  mate- 
rial was  secured  an<l  sent  to  tlic  library  l>y  my  aj^ents 
in  various  pajts  of  the  world,  as  well  as  by  ijj'overnnK^nt 
orticialsin  Wasliini^^tou.  NIexico,  CtMitral  America,  and 
( ^anada. 

At  the  Hawaiian  islands  was  Samuel  K.  Damon, 
one  always  interested  in  historical  lesearch,  who  sent 
iiie  tiles  of  the  Friend,  the  Po/i/iifsiai),  and  the  Acres', 

•  ontainim;'  information  since  I  H.'Jd  on  C)re;j;'on  an<l  Cal- 
ifornia, nowhere  else  exist iuij^.  At  the  suu^'^estion  of 
Stephen  11.  JMiiin|)s  I  wrote  Lawrence  McAnley,who 
^ave  me  ini'ormation  i-e^'ardinuf  tlu;  sale  of  the;  Pease 
hhrarv,  which  occnnred  in  IH71.  Ten  vears  later 
(ieorj^a,'  \V.  Stewart  kindly  si-nt  me  the  nundjci's  of 
the  Sifiinhii/  I*n'ss',  coiitainini^  a  series  of  ailicles  on 

•  ■ailv  California  hv  lienr^  L.  Sheldon,  a  journalist  in 
Culil'ornia  as  early  as  I  H48. 

Ctah  was  nci  the  easiest  of  problems  with  which 
to  deal  hist<.rically.  Not  that  1  luul  any  hesitation 
.'il)out  tivati'iiu;'  the  subject  when  once  I  came  to  it,  but 
|ii-i'judice  au^ainst  the  Mormons  was  so  stron;^  and 
universal,  and  of  such  loni^^  standinl,^  that  anything-  I 
roiild  say  or  do  short  of  wilful  and  persistent  vitu- 
pci'ation  would  nr)t  satisfy  the  j)eo})le. 

This  with  me  was  out  of  the  f|uestioii.      Hate  is 
iiisan'";  injustici'  is  the  greatest  of  ci'iines.     At  th( 
outset  in  my  writings  T  was  determined  that  no  j)ow(;r 
nn  earth  should   iiilhuMice  me  from  the  path  of  recti- 
tude;  no   f<.'eling  of  dislike   or  of  favor  within  my 

•  •ontrol,  should  swav  me  Irom  telliiiLj  the  truth.  I 
Would  do  all  parties  and  se(;ts  justice,  according  to  the 
evidence,  whichsoever  way  or  into  whatsoever  pande- 
monium of  criticism  or  un[)opularity  such  a  coursi' 
might  lead  me.  In  treating  of  the  Chinese,  a  fair 
statement  would  .satislV  neither  one  side  nor  the  other; 


k  A 


632 


FURTHER  INGATIIERIXOS. 


in  treating  of  Utah,  I  well  know  that  strict  impar- 
tiality would  bring  upon  nio  the  condenuiation  of  both 
Mormons  and  giMitilcs.  If  this,  then,  was  the  test  of 
truth  and  fair  dealinnr,  I  must  subject  myself  to  the 
(^ensure  of  both  sides;  at  all  events,  as  had  been  my 
invariable  custom  in  regard  to  sects,  nationalities,  and 
religions,  social  and  politicil  j)rcjudices,  I  would  not, 
write  for  the  approbation  of  one  side  or  the  other. 

My  sympathies,  ifanysucli  existed,  were  witli  tbi- 
Mormons,  knowing  as  I  did  how  common  it  was  to 
ijrosslv  misuse  and  vilifv  them;  and  so  I  declaied, 
assuring  them  that  I  would  cioiisider  the  matter  coolly, 
disinterestedly,  and  ms  e(piital)ly  as  in  my  power  lay. 
But  this  by  no  means  [)ledged  me  to  tlu;ir  super- 
stitioi^s,  or  led  nic  to  advocate^  polygamy  as  the  liigli- 
(!st  social  condition. 

Tli»>  Mormons  possessed  stores  of  information  that 
I  (hisired.  ]Jy  means  of  an  histori<'al  ollice  and  an 
odicially  appointed  historian,  and  by  other  ways,  tiny 
bad  pn^served  the  records  of  their  doings  to  a  re- 
nia,rkal)le  degree.  Of  this  I  soon  became  aware;  but 
although  I  knew  I  could  not  write  n  true  and  (;oin 
])lete  history  of  Utah  without  their  aid,  .1  would  in 
no  wise,  by  insinuation  or  intimation,  counnit  myscll" 
to  any  course,  or  hold  out  any  ho[w»  to  them  other 
than  that  I  would  treat  the  subject  fairly,  according 
to  my  custom,  as  it  presented  itself  to  my  mind  at. 
the  tii\ie  of  writin'j;;.  Oi-son  l*ratt  was  at  that  time 
historian  and  church  recoi-der,  and  it  had  been  inti 
niatinl  to  \no  that  if  I  would  })rint  '"without  mtitila 
tion"  what  lu;  shoidd  write,  lie  woidd  furnish  a  i^ompltite 
history  of  Utah.  This  only  showed  that  they  wei-e 
wholly  mi.stalven  in  the  charact(M'  of  my  work.  It 
was  in  this  state  of  mind  that  1  indited  the  following 
e[>istlc: 

"SvN  Fkan'cisoo,  .Taim.iry  t'i,  ISSO. 
"Deaii  Sir: 

"I  ;im  in  receipt  of  your  csteumeil  fjivor  iiifurmiiij;  me  liiat  your  lii.-itoii 
lyrapluT,  .Mr  Orson  Pratt,  will  fiimish  valiiahlts  original  inaterial  respucliii ,' 
Utali,  for  luy  llisl'iri/  of  the  J'dci/ir  '^taif.'i,  now  in  iiroi^'ios,  provided  lie  miyiiC 
feci  assured  that  a  lair  and  proper  use  of  it  would  l>e  made. 


F^ETTKRTO  MH  DWYER. 


633 


"In  reply,  permit  me  to  liif  before  you  tl)o  nature  of  my  work  and  its  aim, 
which  I  will  «lo  as  clearly  iiiid  disintcroattMlly  ns  I  iim  aMo: 

•'The  history,  upon  which  i  havo  liccn  oiigaL;e(l  for  many  years  past,  will 
(;oni])riso  soi^e  twenty-right  octavo  Vdhnnos,  of  aljout  seven  hiinilretl  pages 
''.idi.  The  work  is  more  than  half  <loiie,  anil  is  heing  iMrricil  forwanl  to 
I'onipletion  as  rapidly  as  \'\  consistent  with  thoroughness  and  proper  con- 
dunsfttion.  The  territoi-y  covered  is  tho  westuri  half  of  North  Aiii.  rii'a,  the 
>:unc  cmhracod  in  my  Xntiif  liwrn  of  thr  I'acijic  Sinlc^;  namely,  Central 
America  ami  Mexico;  California,  Arizona,  and  New  >'exico;  Texas,  Colo- 
rado, and  Wyon  ing;  Utah  and  Nevada;  Oregon,  Washington,  Idaho,  and 
Montana:  Ihitisl.  ColniMliia  and  .Vlaska.  Tlio  Xn'irc  AV^rx  is  a  dcsrriptiim 
'if  the  ahorigines  as  lirst  seen  hy  Knrop'ans;  tlio  IliMorii  i\f  llir  I'  <  ''It'-  Sinh-t 
will  comprise  the  discovery  and  fon(picst  of  the  several  ]iarts  of  Hi"  country 
hy  tiie  Muroj)eans,  settlement,  society,  the  organization  of  governments,  and 
all  tile  ii:ipoi-lai;t  incidents  tliat  followed. 

"It  is  written  after  a  careful  weighing  of  ;dl  gathered  totimony,  and  is  in 
the  strictest  sense  of  tho  term  digestcl  narration  -in  a  word,  vKmX  history. 
Ilcncu  the  extract  of  wliat  Mr  Pratt  siioi  'd  Kindly  furnish  nu"  would  ho 
added  to  the  extracts  of  all  otln  ]■  niati  i  i  d  wiiiiin  uiy  nacli;  I'ur  fioiii  .such 
.1  hnixtures,  through  the  alenihio  of  inlinite  labor  and  pam.s  my  work  is 
'li.stilled.  To  what  tJXtent  Mi'  I'ratl's  material  would  lini'liire  the  mass  it  is 
iin))o.s»iblo  for  mo  to  toll;  1  nivir  know  hel'orchiiiid  what  I  am  going  to 
wi'ile;  but  that  it  would  |)al|ialfly  atl-ct  the  work  there  is  no  doubt.  Its 
presence  would  bo  felt  in  proportion  as  it  ])resentcd  new  iniiiis  and  tlis- 
■  losed  uuknowu  facts.  It  would  stand  upon  the  same  iilatform  as  ihu  rest, 
.Old  would  In:  given  every  opportunity  to  exercise  its  full  force  in  sliaping 
the  records  of  the  nation.  To  write  tho  history  of  Utah,  <ir  of  any  other 
commonwealth,  on  the  scale  jjroposed  by  )a<',  or  on  any  other  scale,  on<! 
wants  all  tho  information  obtainalile:  uU  that  is  known,  and  all  that  can  bu 
a.-iccrtained ;  ami  though  the  si/t!  of  the  tiuishiMl  work  need  not  neci's,sarily 
li  •  increased  by  the  increase  of  raw  nuiterial,  the  i|iialily  should  be  assuredly 
unproved  thereby. 

"What  I  sliould  like  from  Utah  »'•<■  i;  .  itivcs  of  early  events,  dictations, 
iiom  ditlereut  j)ersons,  of  their  sevrwa!  experiences,  what  tiiey  saw  and  ilid 
who  made  tho  history  of  llie  couulry.  What  i  should  like  particukirly  from 
Mr  I'ratt  is  a  manuscript  history  o;  Utah  from  the  advent  of  Knropeansto  tho 
present  time;  who  and  wh'.ri"  thisi;  peopj,'  were  before  their  wi'st  ward  migra 
'ion;  what  led  to  their  exodus  from  original  tjuarters;  wh.'it  other  olijectivo 
points  beside  Utah  wore  considered  in  seeking  a  new  home;  why  Utah  was 
liually  chosen  ;  ilic  routes  ]iur.sued  by  the  several  ditachiiienls  ;  the  iinal  desli- 
ii.ition  of  each;  all  tho  incideiiis  conuieted  wilh  their  pre[iaiatioiis  ami  Joui- 
111  ys,  the  seemingly  trivial  as  well  as  tho  more  apparently  important;  what 
ilii.y  severally  saw  and  did  on  arrival ;  their  eouilition,  discomforts,  and  sull'ei  - 
lags;  the  selection  of  sites  for  s<!ttlemeiit  ;  the  foinialiou  of  farms,  the  laying 
out  of  towns,  the  building  of  dwellings,  churches,  and  mills;  the  stale  of 
ocicty,  its  composition  and  condition;  the  founding  uf  schools,  and  all  otln  r 
institutions;  chufch  and  state  org.ini/;at ion  and  relations;  by  whom  conceived 
•  III  how  controlled,    lieligion  lying  at  the  foundation  of  the  movement  which 


634 


FURTHER  INGATHERINGS. 


resulted  in  a  new  and  isolated  community,  great  care  should  be  taken  to  give 
the  true  and  inner  life  of  both  leaders  and  jieople:  what  were  their  longings 
and  ambitious,  wliut  tliey  hoped  to  achieve,  and  what  course  they  pursued 
to  the  accomplitdiment  of  that  end;  the  ideas,  doctrines,  and  power  that 
But  in  motion,  and  the  nature  and  successful  workings  of  tliat  truly  inar- 
vellous  machinery  which  isbiined  and  governed  them ;  in  a  word,  ecclesias- 
tical and  civil  polity  ar  i  history  from  first  to  lost.  Then  I  should  have  tlu- 
beginning  of  things,  everytliing,  cvcrywiiere — the  first  settlement,  the  first 
town,  the  next,  and  su  on;  also  tlie  lirst  house,  farm,  mill,  church,  store,  etc., 
in  till-  several  localities ;  niiuiTals — gold,  silver,  etc. ;  the  discovery  of  metals, 
the  opening  of  mines,  and  the  eHuct  uiwn  society;  the  organiziition  and  oper- 
ations of  local  and  subordinate  governments;  the  judicial  system — crimes 
an<l  ]iunishments;  something  of  tlie  resources  and  possibilities  of  the  country: 
agriculture,  irrigation,  commerce,  manufactures,  education,  amusements,  and 
domestic  lite,  together  with  interesting  inci*lents  and  episodes. 

"1  liave  many  KUfh  maiiutieripts  relating  to  this  and  other  parts  of  my 
territory,  some  twelve  lnin<lred  in  all,  v.'irying  in  size  from  a  few  pages  to  live 
folio  volumes,  covering  the  subjects  above  named  in  whole  or  in  part,  eonie 
of  them  CDiuph'to  iiistories,  M'i'itten  tor  nu)  and  ut  my  request,  tliough  never 
intended  to  be  published,  ur  to  l)e  used  in  tlie  words  written — notable  among 
which  are:  Tlie  lii.stories  of  California,  by  Mariano  ().  Vallejo,  Juan  11.  Alva- 
nwlo,  .Tuan  liaudini,  .Vntonio  Maria  Osio,  and  John  Hiihvell;  John  A.  Sutter's 
PcrKoiHil  lt-miii'mrrii'-ci :  IHar'in  ili>  Juan  Ji.  dc  Aiiyi;  the  lli'hinon  of  Manuel 
Castro;  Narradon  /lintdricaoi  Pio  Pico  ;  lifiuiiiisfeuriua  <le  t'alij'iiniia,hy  iio^i": 
de  JcMus  Valli'jo ;  J/i  iiinri((iioi  Jos(5  Jlaria  Anmdm';  Sn  t/iie  Sahc  ilr  ( 'nl'/oriiin, 
by  \'icrnte  (iomez;  /ieiiiiiiifi<:cii''i<is,  by  Ksti'vau  dc  la  Torre;  A]inHti-<  jiaiti  hi 
Jfi4(iri(t  ill'  la  Ada  Call/nriiM,  by  Floreneio  Serrano;  two  hundred  bouml 
volumes  of  original  documents,  areliives  fif  Santa  IJarbara,  Los  Angeles,  San 
Diego,  San  Luis  Uliispo,  Monterey,  and  San  l''raneisco;  thirty  volumes  on 
jiussiaii  .VuK'rica;  twenty-live  volumes  on  Vigilance  Committees,  by  William  T. 
CohMuaii,  ('.  .1.  Dempster,  Isiuic  Lluxome,  M.  F.  Tructt,  and  oiherw ;  William 
M.  t; will's  .)fi-iii'i'ir-:  Walter  Murray's  Xnrnitiir;  William  A.  Streeter's 
Pecoltii'tioiiK;  .Joseph  Lane's  Antnhi'>iirii/i/i>i ;  .Tessc  Applcgate's  UiMori'ul 
Vii'irn:  ,liicl  Palmer's  I'.ailii  tli  r.,ll-ctiniin;  Fciwili'  I'litiweriini,  by  Mrs.  M.  .\. 
]Minto;  P.  W,  ( 'rawt'ord's  (inrlnml  Joiiniei/ to  Uri'<ioii ;  Peter  11.  liiiruett's 
Jt'i C' -III I /^oii^ ;  A. luivn  S.  Lawijon's  .■l«<»/>/'(Ji//*((/>/*(/,' J.  Harry  lirown's  Ort'ijoii 
Mi.iriHaiihH;  M.ittiie  y  P.  Dt!ady's  llUtonj  of  <)irjo:i;  Lafayette  (Jrovcis 
jS'iiliihli;  Tliiiiij'i  ill  Oifjoti;  William  Strong's  //mAici/ i/ ";••;/"/(;  Finlaysou's 
Jl'iHtonj  (>/  Vaiiroiircr  IkIidiU;  Harvey's  Lij'i'  of  John  Mi'LoiujliUn ;  Prii'''t<' 
J'lipers  of  Sir  Jiiini's  DoKi/itu;  .Tohn  Tod's  Ulstor;/  of  ytw  ('alc'/oiiin ;  A.C, 
Anderson's  ll'iHturii  nfth'  2s' orthnrst  Coast.;  Elwootl  Evans'  /li'<li)n/  o/Orcjini, 
\\  (M/iiii'jtiui,  ami  Idaho;  Private  Papers  of  John  MfLomjIiliii;  Sir  James 
Douglas'. Aowrifa/;  Good's /i/vV-'s/i  f'olumhia;  Tolmie's  Pii'jrt  So:iiiil;  Hudson's 
IJay  ( .'ompany's  l-'orl  Journals;  Melvay's  X/.Wc/tc.v,-  De  (Cosmos'  llrUish  (.'ihimliiii 
Oovirnmctil;  \\or\C  a  Journal;  KbberL's  Trd/ijicr'K  IJfi ;  Simon  Fraser's  Le/^r.^ 
and  Journal ;  John  Stuart's  Journal;  Walilo's ''/•«'^V/«('.■<;  etc. 

"It  is  no  more  than  the  truth  to  say  lliat  never  before  was  undertaken  the 
history  of  so  largo  and  important  a  part  of  the  world,  upon  so  comprchcusi\  e 


i-nough 


MY  AIM  AND  OBJECT. 


035 


and  thorough  a  plan.  There  is  no  considerable  part  of  the  civilized  world 
whose  history  could  have  been  thus  attempted  with  any  possibility  of  suc- 
cess. Wo  of  the  Pocitic  slope  are  now  at  the  turning-iwint  between  civiliza- 
tion's first  generation  in  this  duinuin  and  tho  second.  The  principal  fii,cts  of 
our  history  we  can  now  obtain  beyond  a  perad  venture.  Some  arc  yet  living, 
though  these  are  fast  passing  away,  wliose  a<lvonturcs,  counsels,  and  acts 
constitute  a  part  of  early  liistory.  Tliere  are  men  yet  living  wlio  licl[)od  to 
make  our  hi^itury,  and  wlio  can  tell  us  what  it  is  better  than  tlieir  sous,  or 
than  any  who  shall  come  after  them.  A  score  of  years  hence  few  of  tliem 
will  remain.  Twenty  years  ago  many  parts  of  our  territoiy  were  not  old 
enough  to  have  a  history ;  twenty  years  hence  mucli  will  be  lost  that  may 
now  bo  secured. 

"If  I  succeed  in  my  elibrts  my  work  will  constitute  tlie  foundation  upon 
wliich  futuru  liistories  of  western  Xortli  America  mu.st  forever  be  built.  The 
reason  is  obvious.  I  take  events  from  the  men  who  made  them.  My  facts, 
for  the  mo.st  part,  are  from  original  sources;  and  wherever  the  desired  facts 
do  not  appear  T  t^ip  tlie  fountain  for  theui.  He  who  hhuU  come  after  me  will 
scarcely  bo  able  to  underniiue  my  work  by  laying  anotlier  or  a  deeper  foimda- 
tiou.  He  nnist  build  upon  mine  or  not  at  all.  lor  he  cannot  go  beyond  my 
authorities  for  facts.  He  may  add  to  or  alter  my  work,  for  I  shall  not  know 
<ir  be  able  to  tell  everything,  but  lie  never  can  nuike  a  eiimplfte  structure  of 
his  I  ■  ;.  Therefore,  wiiatever  Mr  I'ratt  miglit  favor  me  witli  would  vitally 
aflfcc  irA-  ttatns  of  his  country  before  the  world — would  i'lfluence  it,  in  fact, 
throughout  all  time.  No  work  of  tlii.s  c;iiaracter  wliii.li  lie  liiis  ever  doiu^  or  I 
believe  that  any  one  at  present  could  do,  would  be  .■><)  iiiipoiUint  as  this. 

"I  will  now  bricliy  explain  to  you  my  method  in  the  use  of  material: 

"To  what  Mr  Tratt,  or  any  other  whom  you  sliotiM  suihrieiitly  iutereat 
iu  the  Hubject,  might  write  for  me,  I  would  give  an  a|>pro|>i  ialo  title,  bear- 
ing the  author's  name.  I  should  then  bind  it  for  pernmneut  preservation, 
iind  u«.e  it  as  I  use  other  malciial,  giving  it  due  prmiiineuce ;  that  is.  notes 
would  be  lirst  taken;  those  notes  would  be  put  with  all  other  notes  upon  the 
Nunc  subject,  .arranged  so  that  all  authorities  c>n  each  point  fall  together,  as 
1  have  once  or  twice  explained  to  you.  From  such  combiuod  information  tlio 
liistory  is  written,  witli  full  and  constant  reference  to  authorities,  and  with 
biijgraphical  and  bibliographical  notes.  There  is  one  thing  I  should  have 
that  1  forgot  to  mention  -the  biograpliies  of  all  the  leading  men  of  Utah 
from  the  iMgimiing.  Besides  tlii.s  iiiuimscri[it  mi  Mr  rratt'.s,  which  it  seems  to 
nil'  would  give  him  \cry  marked  iiromineuce  in  the  work,  I  should  like  to 
receive  all  the  jiiiuted  matter  ]io.ssiltle  to  obtain.  I  havi?  already  a  consider- 
able aiiiouiit,  but  cannot  have  tuo  niucli — siuli  as  files  of  jiupers,  books,  and 
liainpldets.  Vou  may  think  this  prepaiation  too  great  for  the  pio|iosed  result, 
iitid  the  allotted  siiace  iiisuliicient.  15ut  1  am  accustomed  to  handling  large 
iiia-sses  of  material ;  and  can  promise,  with  what  you  may  give  me,  to  im'  nive 
tlie  r|ii;ility  even  if  I  do  Hot  increase  the  Imlk. 

"Now  as  to  what  you  can  depend  upon  in  regard  to  myself;  you  i.:ivo 
known  mu  both  us  a  business  nuui  and  as  an  author  long  enoiigii  to  judge 
how  far  to  trust  in  what  I  sjiy: 

"My  object  in  this  work  is  not  money.      If  it  does  not  cost  me  over 


i 


(M 


FURTHER  INGATHERINGS. 


$200,000  more  than  over  comes  back  to  mc  I  shall  be  satisfiod.  I  have  no  pet 
theory  to  sustain ;  nor  will  I  ever  have.  I  am  not  in  the  least  sectarian  or 
partisan — that  is,  so  far  as  I  can  judge.  I  am  neither  catholii;  nor  protestant; 
neither  Mormon,  niethodist,  itor  presbytcrian.  I  neither  bend  the  knee  to  tito 
United  States  government,  nor  revile  Utah.  My  religion  and  my  politics*, 
such  OH  I  may  have,  are  laid  aside,  so  far  as  possible  when  writing,  for  tho 
occasion. 

"  I  do  not  hoiH!  to  satisfy  tho  people  of  Utih  or  their  opponents,  because 
I  cannot  espouse  tho  cause  of  either,  iiut  I  cuu  promise  to  give,  I  think,  as 
fully  as  lies  in  the  power  of  most  men,  a  simple,  truthful  statement  of  facts.  I 
ahall  enter  ivs  fully  into  tlio  sympathies,  ideas,  Impes,  and  aspirations  of  tho 
.Mormons  as  into  those  of  any  who  liave  ever  opposed  them.  Whether  Mor- 
monism  as  a  liiunan  or  divine  institution  is  right  or  wrong.  I  shall  not  deem 
it  any  part  of  my  duty  to  altomiit  to  determine.  Natnially  an  imbia.sscd 
author  has  jui  all'oetion  for  his  subject.  I  .>*liall  earne»;ly  entleavor  to  treat 
the  people  i>f  Utah  with  respect ;  their  ignoraiice  and  prejudices  I  shall  not 
overlook,  nor  pass  by  their  stem  morality  and  high  endeavor.  Good  actions 
I  shall  praise,  bud  actions  condemn,  wherever  loiind;  a«iil  that  in  the  satne 
spirit,  and  under  the  same  ciruest  desire  to  deal  only  exact  justice.  In  my 
inmost  heart  1  know  of  no  fi'eli)ig  unduly  favoring  one  side  more  than  tlie 
other.  I  desire  tho  luarty  eoiiiiecation  of  the  people  nf  Utah,  Mormon  and 
gentile,  and  am  determined  to  nuike  my  woik  worthy  (/f  it.  This  you  may 
regard  in  me  as  too  .strictly  judicial,  lint  I  hope  not.  Every  truthful  writer 
of  history  must  hold  himself  absolutely  free  to  be  led  wherever  the  facts  carry 
liini.  Tluunoment  lie  becomes  parlisiin  his  work  is  worthless.  It  is  l>eforo  tlie 
eyes  of  tlie  intelligent  and  disinterested  throughout  tho  world  that  Utaii. 
wishes  to  stand  well,  Iler  own  people  have  already  ti:eir  opinion  wiiich  no 
words  (if  mine  could  clmngo  if  I  so  desired.  I  shall  nndoubt'dly  find  raults: 
humanity  is  heir  to  them.  But  better  a  thousandfold  that  our  fiuits  l)r  told 
by  a  friend  tli.an  by  an  enemy. 

"Here,  as  e'>ewliore,  I  seek  neither  to  please  nor  to  d:splea:',e.  And  when 
for  any  reason  1  cannot  feel  at  lil)eity  to  write  unadulterated  truth;  when 
from  fear  or  favor  I  fee!  constrained  here  to  cover  and  there  to  exaggerati;, 
that  momiuit  I  prefer  to  lay  down  my  pen. 

"Tliis,  then,  is  the  point;  fair-minded  men,  who  desire  to  see  pla,e'..'d  \>e- 
fore  tlie  world  a  true  hist')ry  of  Utah,  i^tumot  more  directly  or  thoroughly 
accomplish  the  pur[)ose,  in  this  generation  at  least,  tlian  by  placing  within 
my  reach  tho  material  necessary  for  tie.'  builJii;g  rjf  such  u  work. 

"Very  sincerely, 

"  HtniEHT   H.  R\NCKOKT." 

"  Mr  Jamed  Dmyer,  Sail  Lake  City." 


In  answer  to  this  were  sent  to  me  tho  io!iowiri<r: 


"N\i.r  Lajvi;  Citv,  Utah,  January  27,  1880. 
"  H.  It.  llANcuorr,  Ksg.: — 

".1/y/  JJiar  Sir:   I  received  yi>ur  aiuswei'  to  my  former  letter  souii)  days 
iigo,  and   have  read  the  outline  of  your  woi'k  on  Ut.ah  with  inneU  interest.     I 


PRESIDENT  TAYLOR  AND  ORSON  PRATT. 


637 


hastened  to  see  Mr  Taylor,  president  of  the  ^lormon  clinrch,  and  read  yonr 
letter  to  him.  Ho  was  very  tanch  pleased  witli  your  ideas.  Mr  Taylor  held 
a  council  yesterday  Mrith  the  members  of  the  twelve  apjstlea,  and  it  was 
agreed  that  tha  material  and  all  the  infunnatiun  you  need  fur  yuur  history 
of  Utah  should  be  furnished  you.  The  c  mucil  talked  of  sending  Mr  I'ratt  to 
San  Francisco  soon  after  the  adjournment  of  the  legislature,  whicli  is  now  in 
session,  Mr  Pratt  being  speaker  of  tlic  house  of  representatives.  Yon  will 
find  Mr  Pratt  a  genial  gentleman.  Plcoae  accejvt  my  tlianks  for  your  kind- 
ness. Yours  truly, 

"  J.vMi:.'?  DwrEH." 


"Salt  Lake  City,  U.  T.,  Feb.  26,  1880. 
"HcBERT  H.  BAycwoFT,  Esq.,  San  Fmnr.Uco,  Cat.-— 

"Dear  Sir:  Your  communication  of  .Tunuary  l'2th  to  Mr  .Tumes  Dwj'er 
of  this  city,  pertaining  to  your  desire  to  obtain  original  nwterial  through  our 
church  historian,  Prof.  Orson  Pratt,  respecting  tiie  liistory  of  Ufaih  for  your 
Hlstorij  of  the  Pacijic  Stales,  has  Wen  handed  to  ni'j  for  jwrusul  uiiil  consid- 
cration.  I  have  given  the  matter  some  attention,  and  cuu»ultcd  with  Prof. 
0.  Pratt  and  others  of  our  leatling  citizens  pt'ttaitiing  thcrcLo,  In  conse(|U«!nco 
of  I'rof.  Pratt  being  engaged  for  some  time  p.ast  wsi  speaker  cf  the  house  of 
representatives  of  our  territorial  legislature,  he  ha.s  nut  been  able  to  give 
the  subject  that  attention  lie  has  desired  to,  and  which  must  be  our  excuse 
lor  not  writing  you  suouer. 

"Wo  fully  realize  your  position  and  ability  to  aocomplisih  this  muclk* 
desired  work;  and  from  tlie  manner  rcpros(;ntod  by  you  of  what  is  needed, 
and  of  obtaining  tiio  required  data  from  whii  Ii  to  cumposo  this  hiatory,  we 
tind  it  will  bo  considerable  expense  to  us  to  furnish  and  put  in  proper  shape 
such  data  and  facts  that  we  are  in  possession  of ;  yet  feel  encuuiuged  to  pm- 
ceed  with  the  work,  in  view  of  the  great  good  we  anticipate  will  be  accom- 
plished in  placing  before  the  world  those  facts,  of  which  the  majority  are 
more  or  leiw  ignorant. 

"I  hhall  bo  pleased  to  place  myself  in  direct  communication  with  you  on 
this  subject,  and  to  be  iufonned  what  period  of  time  we  can  have  to  gather 
this  material  to  meet  your  necessities  fur  writing,  and  shall  bo  pleased  to  re- 
ceive any  further  suggeatious  you  may  have  to  offer. 

"Respectfully  yours, 

"John  Taylor." 


"Salt  Lake  City,  Juno  10,  ISSO. 
"Hubert  H.  Bascroft,  Esq.,  San  Francisco,  Col.:— 

"Dear  Sir:  1  am  reminded  by  our  mutual  f.ieud,  Mr  Dwyer,  that  you  aro 
•  luite  reai'y  for  the  mat«i"iaJ  which  we  design  to  furnish  for  your  fortlicoming 
history  of  Utah. 

"I  have  found  that  to  collate  the  facts  for  such  a  M'ork  with  certainty, 
covering  the  broad  groundb  indicated  in  your  letter  of  BUg,';estionB  dated 
•Ian.  12,  188U,  is  i*  great  labor;  and  that  we  are  liable  to  exjxind  much  time 
over  items  that  might  pnjve  of  little  or  no  value  to  you  when  obUuned. 


638 


FURTHER  INGATHERINGS. 


With  a  view  to  avoid  this,  and  to  como  immediately  and  as  efficiently  aa  poa- 
«iblo  to  your  aid,  I  propose  to  fnrnititli  yoii  ut  once  with  tlie  current  docu- 
niuntary  history  of  our  territory  and  church  as  wo  have  it  in  print,  ^)olie^^n^» 
that  thin,  with  Buch  oral  information  an  I  might  bo  able  to  give,  would  let  you 
at  once  to  the  labor;  and  any  necessary  itifonnation  not  tiiereby  available 
could  Ih3  directly  aimed  at  and  probably  obtained  as  soon  and  aa  fast  uh 
needed  for  the  work. 

"It  is  our  desire  to  furnish  you  all  that  you  may  wish,  while  vc  are  too 
closely  occupied  to  spend  much  time  and  lal)or  unnecessarily. 

"Should  this  niethcd  suit  your  purpose,  an  early  reply  to  that  effect  will 
cause  tho  material  to  bo  placed  before  you  without  delay. 
"Yours  very  respectfully, 

"OnsoN  Pratt,  Sen.  " 


"Salt  Lake  City,  U.  T.,  .Tuly  I,  1880. 
"HtTBERT  H.  Rantroft,  Esq.  ,  Sail  Franciiico,  CaL: — 

"Dear  Sir:  On  account  of  tho  very  feeble  state  of  my  health  I  find  my.solf 
oblij;ed  to  decline  tlie  l:il)()r  of  supplying  material  for  a  hi.storj'  of  our  territory . 

"This  duty  is  transfenv.l  to  tlie  lion.  Fraukliu  1).  Kichanl-i,  ono  of  our 
leadiiij,'  iiilluential  citizens,  wlio  has  been  one  of  tho  most  active  and  zealous 
laborers  in  !issistin;j;  to  found  l.'t.nh  find  to  estiiltlisli  lier  institutions.  Mr  Uieli- 
ards  lias  l.ibored  nnuli  abroad  on  foreign  missions,  as  well  as  on  liome  service, 
nn<l  is  fa'uiliar  with  the  genius,  spirit,  and  polity  of  oiu'  institutions,  whotlur 
ecclesiastical  or  civil — he  having  served  in  both  houses  of  the  legislature  fir 
many  years,  and  for  the  last  ten  ye^ii's  as  probatt;  and  county  judge  of  \\'t\n  r 
county.  My  own  personal  aiipiaintanee  and  association  with  Mr  Iviilianls 
enable  nie  to  introihice  and  recommend  him  to  you  as  one  who  is  lM)th  eoni- 
peteiit  and  zealour-ly  inclined  to  r  uiler  you  the  necessary  aid  to  get  out  sui'li 
.1  history  of  I't.ili  as  shall  do  eredit  to  tli'!  he;id  and  he.irt  of  its  author,  aii'l 
justiee  to  an  honest  and  virtuous,  but  a  greatly  maligned  and  misrepresenteii, 
peo])Ie. 

■•Pci-init  me  to  mak(!  very  gra'.eful  acknowledgment  of  your  kindness  in 
offering  me  the  hos.£iitality  of  your  own  house,  and  to  say  that  any  kindiiesn 
you  may  show  to  my  frit-nd  and  brother  Richards  will  be  very  truly  appif- 
ciated. 

"  With  considerations  of  respect, 

"I  am,  3'  urs  ti-uly, 

"Orsox  PR.\rr,  Sen." 


"Salt  Lake  City,  Utah,  .July  1,  1S80. 
"IlrBERT  If.  Uancuoft,  Ei^Q.,  San  Francisco,  CaL: — 

"Deaf  Sir:  In  consequence  of  tho  feeble  health  of  tho  Hon.  Orson  Pratt. 
he  will  not  be  abh",  ns  was  contemplated,  to  attend  with  you  in  your  re- 
searches  of  material  pertaining  to  the  history  of  Utah,  which  wo  projwso  to 
furnish  you  lor  your  lliMory  of  lli<:  Pacific  States. 

"  1,  however,  take  great  pleasure  in  inforiuhig  you  that  the  Uuu.  Fraiddia 


FRANKLIN  D.  RICHARDS. 


0.1D 


D.  Richards  has  been  requested  to  represent  the  Hon.  Orson  Pratt  and  inyHcIf 
in  this  matter.  He  is  one  of  our  leading  and  respected  citizens,  and  a  gentle- 
man who  ia  fully  conversant  in  literary  and  l(>;;al  mattcra ;  anil  has  served  us 
a  member  in  both  L'ranclios  of  our  temtoriul  legislature  dining  several  ses- 
sions, ajid  officiated  as  probiito  judge  for  Weber  county  for  the  jwist  ten 
years,  lie  has  travelled  extensively  in  KurojH!  and  in  this  country,  and  )iaa 
a:»  experience  which  makes  him  fully  competent  and  a.dei|uate  to  render  all 
tlio  information  requisite  jxirtaining  to  the  rise  and  progress  of  the  territory 
of  Utali;  also  of  our  institutions,  either  religious  or  civil,  lie  is  now  nearly 
prepared  to  start  for  San  Francisco,  and  will  take  with  him  the  historical 
datii  referred  to. 

"  Witli  feelings  of  the  liighesfc  esteem, 

"I  am,  yours  truly, 

"John  TAyLoii." 

Mr  Richarcls  came,  and  I  foimtl  him  ovorvtliing  T 
could  desire.  With  hiin,  and  in  honrty  symjiatliy,  was 
]Mrs  Iiicliards,  who  liad  l)oon  marriiul  and  joiniMl  to 
the  church  prior  to  tlio  divine  revelation  of  jxih'i^aiiiy. 
JIc  was  a  man  ol'  varied  ex[)ei'icnt;(.!,  who  had  soon 
much  oC  the  world,  and  had  at,  his  connuand  a  vast 
fund  of  information.  He  was  of  sin^'uiaily  hnmane 
and  l)enetolent  mien,  and,  exco])t  on  points  j)ertaiii- 
ing  to  his  faith,  possessed  of  jji-oad  views  anil  liheral 
ideas,  ]Ie  held  to  his  iaith  as  other  men  hold  to 
theirs, and  I  fully  accorded  him  lliis  liherty.  I  v.ould 
not  say  that  he  was  any  more  a  hy|)()ci-ite  than  tlie 
(•athf)lic  priest  or  the  preshyterian  [)reacher.  Jt  did 
not  concern  me  what  were  his  ideas  i-ei^ai'dinti'  the 
divine  mission  of  .rose[)h  Smiih,  oi'  the  insj»iration  of 
the  hook  of  ]\Iorm(.n;  and  if  with  thiveoi'six  women 
he  had  luitered  into  mai'iiai;'e  relations,  I  {\\i\  not  jiro- 
pose  to  follow  ])ul)lic  si'iitiment  and  iii;ht  him  for  it. 
In  fact  each  of  us  (mte)-tained  too  nuich  respect  for 
the  other  to  attempt  coercion  or  con\ersion.  I  d(>siivd 
the  facts  concerninj^  the  coming'  of  his  people  to  I'tali, 
and  their  settlement;  I  wanted  them  foi- a  heneiicial 
purpose,  and  the  Moi-nion  leaders  helievi-d  [  would  use 
them  properly.  They  \vere  sal  islii'd,  on  my  a.--uranc(.i 
to  that  ellect,  that  1  would  not  warp  these  i'acts  to 
their  prejudice,  that  I  would  s[)ai't!  tlu'm  that  \  ililica- 
tion  to  which  they  were  so  accustomed;  and  although 


C40 


FURTHER  INGATHERINGS. 


they  know  that  I  was  not  a  ^Mormon,  that  my  nature 
was  as  foreign  to  the  reception  of  the  doctrines  of 
Joseph  Smith  as  oil  to  water,  and  that  I  was  not  at 
all  likely  to  advocate  tlu;  policy  of  plurality  of  wives, 
yet  they  believed  I  woukl  do  what  they  claimed  had 
never  yet  been  done  by  a  gentile,  namely,  give  them 
friendly  and  fair  treatment. 

Mr  and  !Mrs  Richards  spent  the  greater  part  of 
July  in  San  Francisco,  most  of  the  time  as  my  guests. 
While  Mr  ]lichards  was  jjiving  a  fortniglit's  dictation 
to  my  reporter  at  the  library,  Mrs  llicliards  imparted 
to  Mrs  IJaiicroft  much  information  concernint;  female 
life  and  stu'iety  in  Utah,  which  was  also  i)reserved  in 
writing.  In  addition  to  this,  and  to  nmny  manuscript 
reminiscences,  and  county  and  local  histories,  the 
Mormon  church  furnished  me  with  a  great  mass  of 
material  printed  since  1832,  and  contained  in  the 
Millennium  Star,  the  Deserct  Nch')^,  Times  and  Seasons, 
political  and  religious  i)an»phlets,  the  Frontier  Guar- 
dian, Pratt's  ]ro;7i,s',  and  other  like  pulUications. 

"The  coun(;il  were  pleased  with  the  report  given 
of  our  visit  and  labors  in  San  Francisco,"  writes  Mr 
Ilichards  from  Ogden  the  8th  of  August,  "and  desire 
to  give  all  neediul  information  for  your  use."  In  a 
second  letter,  ilated  November  2Gth,  he  says:  "Pui- 
suant  to  suijfLjestions  in  your  note  of  the  21st  inst.,  I 
have  the  i)leasure  to  Ibrward  to  your  address  histoiical 
sketches  of  thirty-six  settlements,  towns,  or  counties 
from  various  parts  of  this  territory.  Of  this  number 
the  following  are  county  seats:  Toqutrville,  1  leaver. 
(Irantsville,  lleber  City,  Provo,  St  George,  Briglnun 
( 'ity,  Neplii,  and  Iliclitield.  Salt  Lake  City  and  Logan 
are  in  preparation,  while  Ogden,  unfinished,  you  have; 
these  are  each  county  towns  als(  <tU)inison  Massaere, 
by  Bishop  Anson  Call;  Autohi^  ijraplDi  <>/"  Parlri/  7'. 
Pratt;  Report  of  Jubilee  Conference  April  0,  Ib'SO,  and 
I'tah  Pioneers  Celebration  Jul;/  L*4t/' ;  Travels  and 
Ministry  of  President  Orson  Ili/de:  Fugitive  Poevts, 
by  Mary  J.  Tanner,  with  manuscript  accounts  of  her 


IDAHO  AND  MONTANA  MATERIAL. 


641 


experience,  and  those  of  Mrs  Nancy  N.  Tracy  and 
Mrs  Martha  H.  Brown." 

Among  others  to  whom  I  am  indebted  for  informa- 
tion on  Utah  are  Governor  Wood,  ISIayor  Little, 
WiHiam  Clayton,  A.  P.  Rockwood,  George  Q.  Cannon, 
Sumner  Howard,  Daniel  Tyler,  Miss  Snow,  E.  W. 
TuUidgc,  Christopher  Diehl,  V.  E.  Connor,  H.  S.  El- 
(h'idge,  O.  H.  Riggs,  and  George  A.  Black. 


Granville  Stuart  interested  himself  in  my  behalf 
in  Montana,  and  through  him,  and  by  various  other 
moans,  I  was  enabled  to  secure  from  that  quarter, 
including  Idaho,  sufficient  for  my  purpose.  I  insert 
the  following  letter  from  Wilbur  F.  Sanders,  who  is 
entitled  to  the  highest  praise  for  untiring  efforts, 
under  singular  discouragements,  to  secure  to  his 
country  something  of  its  history: 

"Helena,  Montana,  Marcli  4,  1874. 
"  Sib:  The  historical  society  of  Montana  recently  met  with  a  serious  dis- 
aster ;  on  the  9th  of  January  its  archives,  library,  and  property  were  destroyed 
hy  fire.  Tlio  loss  was  as  sudden  as  it  was  remarkable.  The  building  in 
^^hich  it  had  jts  room.",  had  survived  tho  destruction  of  an  adjoiuing  framo 
liiiihling  by  firo,  which,  having  Ijecn  replaced  with  brick,  left  us  confident  of 
security,  whicli  the  event  has  siiown  wi;  fancied.  Wo  had  labored  under 
many  disadvantiiges,  but  had  {gathered  much  material  having  relation  to  tho 
mountains  and  plains  geuerally,  as  well  as  much  pertaining  to  what  is  now 
M'lita:  a  territory.  Our  library,  if  not  large,  contained  many  rare  books. 
lfaviii.j  had  opportunities  to  compare  with  other  like  societies  wliat  M-e  had 
d'liii',  wo  felt  we  had  abundant  reason  to  congratulate  ourselves,  at  least. 
'1  lir  interest  iu  our  society  had  greatly  increased  within  the  last  two  years. 
iiii'l  I  feel  sure  our  di.s.astcr  will  but  serve  to  intensify  it;  indeed,  wo  con- 
li  iiililato  tlie  erection  of  u  building  of  our  own  tlio  coming  spring.  It  was 
iii't  of  these  matters,  however,  I  had  intended  to  write.  ^Vith  renewed 
ciiiTgy  we  trust  to  replace  what  wo  so  suddenly  lost,  and  while  absorbed  in 
Kciiiu  other  business  to-day,  I  glanced  my  eye  over  tho  Occrlaiul,  and  saw 
tliiit  you  had  taken  a  wide  interest  in  subjects  of  historical  research  pertaining 
til  tile  Pacific  coast.  I  am  glad  of  it,  for  iu  my  visits  to  your  city  it  occurred 
t'.  IMC  that  it  was  the  most  iuNiting  field  I  know;  and  notwithstandin;,'  your 
historical  society,  which  had  tho  misfortune  to  fall  into  the  hands  of  the 
fullurs,  who  are  not  worldly  enough,  and  to  bo  located  outside  San  l''ran- 
tisuo,  I  am  still  of  that  opinion.  I  thought  perhaps  you  might  have  a  cata- 
lo-iu;  of  your  library  or  some  description  of  it  which  you  could  furnish  us, 
and  that  your  suggestions  would  be  of  groat  advantage  to  us.  The  upper 
Lit.  Ind.    41 


FURTHER  INGATHERINGS. 


Columbia,  Ycllowatoiiu,  and  MixBouri  nro  our  speciulticB,  but  all  this  region 
vn  citlicr  flido  of  the  niountaius  has  n  liistory  uf  niost  ubsorbi.ig  and  romiuitio 
Interest.  If  you  can  aid  u.s  in  the  manner  I  have  indicated,  you  will  place  us 
under  lasting  obligations,  whicii  we  shall  be  pleased  to  reciprocate  as  wo  may 
bo  ablo. 

"Very  respectfully,  your  obedient  servant, 

"VV.  F.  Sanders,  Pimident. 
"  H.  H.  Bancroft,  Esq.  ,  San  Franviaco,  Cal. " 

To  Mr  Charles  L.  Mast,  for  many  yeai-s  of  the  law 
department  of  the  business,  I  am  indebted  for  a  lull 
file  of  the  San  Francisco  Post,  besides  uiiremittiii.j 
exertions  throughout  the  period  of  my  entire  woik, 
in  gathering  from  many  sources  public  documents  ami 
other  material  for  my  work. 

These  ingathering  experiences,  as  may  well  be  sur- 
mised, were  not  always  smooth  and  pleasant.  Much 
that  was  annoying,  much  that  was  exasperating,  lias 
been  left  unsaid.  There  is  one  case,  however,  that 
should  not  be  passed  unnoticed. 

All  their  lives  John  Charles  and  Jessie  FreuKMit 
had  been  railing  against  the  world,  all  their  lives  had 
they  been  complaining  of  the  injustice  dune  thciii. 
Their  own  conduct  had  always  bjeii  beyond  reproach; 
only  the  rest  of  mankind  were  desperately  wiekitl. 
Loudly  for  thirty  years  they  had  clamored  for  justice, 
without  j[)ausing  to  consider  whether  the  gods  in 
answering  their  prayers  might  not  lead  tlieiii  {<> 
chastisonient. 

I  did  not  care  for  much  about  thom.selves — tin  y 
are  not  j)aiticularly  pleasing  historical  subjects;  and 
besides,  they  had  already  told  what  they  knew,  and 
perhaps  more  than  they  knew.  But  aware  that  they 
felt  aggrieved,  and  desirous  of  treating  their  ease, 
like  all  others,  with  strict  impartiality,  1  called  u])'in 
them,  explained  fully  the  character  of  my  work,  an<l 
invited  them  to  place  before  me  the  data  for  a  correct 
statement  of  their  grievances.  They  affected  groat 
interest,  Mrs  Fremont,  as  the  regnant  avriiger  of  her 
husband's  wrongs,  vuwod  she  would  incontinently  hi  inj; 


THE  MERCENMIY  FREMONTS. 


643 


John  Charles  to  the  front,  open  his  mouth,  and  catch 
the  fury  flowing  thence  upon  liur  pure  i)aper;  likewise 
John  Charles  rousetl  himself  to  say  it  should  he  done. 

Thus  mattei-s  stood  for  two  or  three  years,  the 
Fremonts  always  promising?  but  never  performiui,'.  I 
could  not  understand  it;  it  seemed  to  ma  so  jrjand 
ail  opportunity  to  accomplish  what  they  hud  always 
jiietcnded  to  covet,  namely,  their  proper  i)la('e  in  his- 
tory. I  had  no  earthly  object  in  approachin*^  them 
other  than  the  ascertainin<^  of  simple  honest  truth.  I 
did  not  believe  with  them  that  they  had  been  so 
badly  malijjfned;  all  the  world  do  not  unite  in  con- 
ilciiming  a  good  man.  But  I  would  hear  and  weigh 
well  what  they  had  to  say. 

At  last  it  came  out:  they  wanted  money.  Mar- 
riott of  the  Neivn  Letter,  who  was  their  special  friend 
in  San  Francisco,  saw  their  opportunity,  which  he 
iii'Hed  them  to  embrace;  he  even  hinted,  unknown 
ti»  mc,  that  I  would  ])ay  them  to  write,  lie  knew 
thi'iu  better  than  1,  lor  I  had  never  suspected  their 
luiu'lity  wrongs  would  creep  for  lucre;  besides,  it  was 
tlicir  affair,  not  mine.  It  was  not  pure  or  original 
iiiuterial  for  history  they  were  to  give  me,  for  of  that 
tluy  had  none;  they  had  published  their  story,  and 
ii  was  already  in  my  library.  If,  indeed,  they  were 
ill  the  j)ossession  of  knowledge  belonging  t(-)  their 
CMiiiitry,  it  could  scarcely  i)e  called  praiseworthy  to  keep 
il  linek  for  a  ])rice,  when  tliey  had  l)een,  the  great<'r 
jMit  of  their  lives,  fed  and  <li»tlied  at  |»ub]ic  expense. 

Ijct  us  see  tlie  elfeet  the  bale  pidspcet  of  glitteiing 
U"l(l  had  upon  this  chivalrous  and  pul)lie-spii'ited  ])air. 
Wilting  jNTarriott  fi'<»ni  Staten  Island  the  18th  of 
October,  1877,  Mrs  Fremont  says: 

"  I  fully  appreciate  the  trouble  yoti  took  to  WTite  mo  so  long  a  letter,  but 
it  »,is  not  needed  to  convince  either  the  general  or  myself  of  the  inipoitanro 
of  . lie  writing  of  which  you  speak.  Everything,  for  some  years  past,  liaa 
liiiu  put  aside  for  the  one  purpose  of  obtaining  justice,  and  to  d(j  this, 
iiKiking  money  enough  to  keep  wlie(;l>i  moving  and  gain  tluit  ]iowcr  which 
only  money  gives. .  .Just  now  residy  money  is  the  moat  essential  i)oint,  ami 
till  icfore  the  end  of  your  letter  is  one  that  makos  it  possible        do  thii 


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23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14580 

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64i| 


FURTHER  INGATHERINGS. 


writing. .  .It  did  not  fall  to  the  lot  of  many  women  to  be  'so  fathered  and  so 
husbanded'  as  I  have  been. .  .Will  you  assure  Mr  Bancroft  thia  work  shall 
be  done?" 

Likewise  John  Charles,  upon  hearing  the  distant 
cHnk  of  coin,  lifts  his  voice  like  an  old  war-horso  at 
the  alarm  of  battle : 

"  It  certainly  would  be  a  most  pleasant  work,"  he  write."  Marriott  three 
days  after  the  date  of  MrsFrdmont's  letter,  "  to  occupy  a  little  lime  iii  setting 
the  past  right,  and  no  part  of  my  life  has  for  me  the  same  interest  that 
attaclies  to  the  period  about  whicli  you  write;  and  iiowlicre  could  those 
transactions  be  set  out  ■^vith  tlie  enduring  authority  of  Mr  Bancroft's  great 
work.  Chauce  threw  me  into  the  midst  of  those  events.  It  was  a  fortunate 
chance  for  me,  and  it  would  be  an  equally  fortunate  one  for  me  if  the  part 
which  fell  to  me  could  be  freely  set  out  in  his  work.  The  question  is,  how  can 
I  avail  myself  of  tlie  opportunity?  As  you  say,  it  will  presently  be  too  laie, 
and  the  narrow  things  at  home  just  now  are  rigidly  inQexible  on  me.  Yoii 
Bay  in  the  postscript  that  Mr  Bancroft  would  willingly  pay  some  reasonable 
Bum  for  the  manuscript  compiled  as  he  would  wish.  Would  he  be  willing  to 
advance  something  of  this  to  enable  me  to  give  it  the  time  now?  If  he  would 
do  so,  I  would  immediately  set  myself  in  a  quiet  comer,  get  my  papers  into 
order,  and  go  at  the  work  witliout  the  loss  of  a  day.  Will  j'ou  speak  of  it  to 
him?  If  he  decides  for  it,  I  should  like  to  know  what  intei'val  of  time  he 
would  wish  it  to  cover,  and  how  full  he  would  wish  it  written.  I  think  [ 
could  make  it  of  itself  an  interesting  work.  I  have  always  had  in  mind  llie 
publishing  of  a  work  to  embrace  the  unpublished  journeys  of  1845-7,  '-IS-l), 
and  '53,  and  not  1  ng  since  had  some  conferences  with  publishers  on  the 
subject. 

"  I  have  the  material,  and  some  years  ago  had  some  thirty  plates  cngiaveil 
on  copper  and  steel,  and  some  twenty  wood -cuts.  If  I  should  WTitc  the 
Bkctch  for  Mr  Bancroft,  I  would  abandon  the  idea  of  any  publication,  for  the 
reason  that  his  work  sets  the  historical  past  right,  and  this  is  all  I  care  for. 
Perhaps  he  might  use,  if  his  work  permits  it,  some  six  or  ten  of  the  jilates, 
which  were  the  work  of  the  best  artists  in  Paris,  London,  and  Philadelphin.. 
Would  be  glad  if  it  should  suit  Mr  Bancroft  to  make  the  arrangement.  W' 
should  all  of  us  deeply  regret  to  stand  wrong  in  his  work.  It  would  lie  a 
great  misfortune.  To  be  right  there,  would  be  most  valuable  to  me  in  every 
way,  and  it  would  constitute  a  rallying-point  for  every  other  part  of  my  life, 
Buch  as  it  was.  Pray  give  the  earliest  convenient  attention  to  thia,  ami  if 
you  have  occasion  to  write  or  telegraph  me,  do  so  to  the  address  at  tlics  luad 
of  this  note." 


IS  0 


f 


Now  of  all  cool  propositions  ever  made  mc,  tlii 
John  Charles  was  the  most  frigid.  In  the  first  placo. 
I  did  not  want  a  "manuscript  compiled"  by  Iiiin, 
and     "ould  scarcely  pay  money  for  such  a  docuiiicn^ 


VERY  POOR  PATRIOTISM. 


645 


The  most  I  ever  cared  for  from  him  was  some  ex- 
])lanation  on  certain  disputed  points,  on  matters  not 
clearly  settled,  and  which  for  the  most  part  callod  in 
question  his  own  fair  fame.  Secondly,  why  should  I 
pay  him  money  for  patching  his  tattered  reputation  ? 
But  most  ridiculously  extravagant  of  all  was  the 
[)roposition  that  I  should  send  him  payment  in  ad- 
vance. ]Mr  Fremont  was  always  a  man  of  great 
expectations;  had  I  sent  him  a  cheek  for  five  thou- 
sand dollars  at  the  beginning  of  his  work,  and  a  like 
amount  at  the  completion  of  it,  he  would  never  have 
dreamed  himself  overpaid  for  throwing  together  and 
commenting  upon,  to  the  furtherance  of  his  individual 
reputation,  a  quantity  of  matter  the  most  of  which  was 
already  in  my  hands  in  much  better  shape  for  my  pur- 
pose. At  this  rate  five  millions  of  dollars  would  not 
have  sufliced  for  the  knowledge  to  which  the  public 
was  justly  entitled  without  the  payment  of  a  dollar; 
what  this  man  did  for  the  United  States,  while  in 
the  pay  of  the  United  States,  the  people  of  the 
United  States  had  a  right  to  know. 

To  the  magnificent  proposal  of  John  Charles  I  paid 
not  the  slightest  attention.  Thinking,  however,  that 
the  Fremont  family  might  be  led  astray  by  ^Marriott's 
nionoy  proposals,  I  wrote  to  Mrs  Fremont  as  follows^, 
the  30th  of  October: 

"  Mr  Marriott  has  sho^^^l  me  your  letter  of  recent  date,  or  that  part  of  it 
lic'iiring  upon  my  former  request.  I  see  that  ho  has  spoken  of  compensation 
fur  such  material  as  you  may  furnish.  While  I  deem  it  very  important  to 
t iiimral  Frdmont,  to  the  public,  and  to  myself,  that  the  general's  own  version 
lit  certain  events  bo  under  my  eye  as  I  record  California's  annals,  yet  I  would 
by  no  means  obtain  that  version  at  the  cost  of  possible  future  dissatisfaction 
oil  your  part.  I  have  never  paid,  and  cannot  pay  for  original  historical  tes- 
tiinony.  I  have,  however — and  it  was  to  this  that  Mr  Marriott  referred  in 
his  letter  to  you — paid  in  some  cases,  at  a  maximum  rate  of  twenty  cents 
l»n-  folio,  for  the  actual  labor  of  writing  down  such  testimony.  This  I  will 
gladly  do  in  the  case  of  General  Fremont,  if  ho  will  give  me  a  complete  nar- 
rutive  of  events  in  California  from  March  to  July  1846,  including  full  details 
of  his  own  acts  and  motives." 

I  would  here  state  that  in  saying  I  did  not  pay 
and  had  never  paid  for  original  historical  testimony, 


Wis 


646 


FURTHER  INGATHERINGS. 


1  SI 


I    M 


I  did  not  refer  to  books,  manuscripts,  or  documents, 
but  to  knowledge  in  the  mouths  of  living  witnesses. 
Thousands  of  dollars  had  I  expended  in  committing 
such  knowledge  to  writing,  and  I  would  cheerfully 
have  remunerated  the  copyist  fairly  in  the  case  (if 
General  Fremont;  but  to  pay  the  narrator  rnouf}', 
except  by  way  of  charity,  as  in  the  case  of  Alvarado, 
or  in  the  way  of  expenses  or  entertainment,  I  never 
could  make  up  my  mind  to  do. 

Intellectual  wealth  can  only  exist  as  the  conunon 
property  of  the  body  social.  Knowledge  as  a  means 
of  civilization  is  valueless  except  it  be  pronuilgated. 
It  matters  little  how  high  the  state  of  cultivation 
arrived  at  by  the  individual,  unless  he  impress  it  in 
some  form  upon  his  age.  Hoarded  facts,  like  hoarded 
coin,  are  absolutely  worthless.  He  who  having  knowl- 
edge of  public  events  valuable  to  posterity  withholds 
it  for  gain,  is  beyond  the  reach  of  words  condemnablo. 
Bringing  into  the  world  absolutely  nothing,  the  jne- 
served  experiences  of  all  men  and  ages  are  freely 
placed  at  his  disposal,  while  he,  stingily  grudging  liis 
poor  pittance,  carries  it  with  him  into  the  realm  eter- 
nal, where  it  is  not  of  the  sliglitest  use  to  him.  Later 
we  learned  that  Fremont  really  had  little  to  say. 

In  my  comments  upon  those  with  whom  I  came 
more  immediately  in  contact  while  searching  I'cr 
material,  it  should  be  understood  that  I  am  pro- 
nouncing judgment  purely  from  a  collector's  point  of 
view.  1  would  not  have  it  a[)pear  that  frowns, 
surly  refusals,  and  withholding  information  of  a  puMie 
character  for  money,  governed  my  opinion  of  a  mans 
character  in  other  respects.  Because  a  man  did  not 
regard  me  or  my  work  with  favor,  it  did  not  neces- 
sarily follow  that  he  was  a  bad  husband  or  citizen, 
that  he  was  dishonest  or  of  base  instincts.  I  belit'\o 
I  may  truthfully  say  with  Martial,  "Parcere  personis, 
dicerc  de  vitiis."  It  has  been  my  constant  aim  in 
all  my  writings  to  lash  vice,  but  to  spare  persons. 


THE  OSIO  HISTORY. 


647 


I  .speak  only  of  their  conduct  in  such  connection,  and 
pronounce  my  opinion  upon  it.  Of  those  who  said 
plainly  they  would  have  nothing  to  do  with  my  lite- 
rary affairs  I  never  complained.  There  were  several 
such  in  Vigilance  Committee  matters,  and  I  do  not 
even  mention  their  names.  I  grant  every  one  the 
right  to  exercise  his  own  pleasure,  and  do  not  expect 
all  to  think  on  every  subject  as  I  do.  There  was 
Pacheco,  who  pledged  me  in  faithful  promises,  which 
he  faithlessly  broke.  He  said  he  had  papers  and 
would  give  them  to  me ;  I  do  not  know  that  he  had 
them,  as  I  never  saw  them.  He  pretended  to  personal 
friendship,  to  friendship  for  my  work,  which  rendered 
liis  failure  to  keep  faith  with  me  all  the  more  exasper- 
ating. Fremont's  record,  in  many  respects,  is  not  such 
as  to  command  the  respect  of  any  fair-minded  man. 
JNIy  treatment  of  him  in  history  was  made  uj)  purely 
fi'om  the  records,  and  was  in  no  way  aft'ected  by  his 
failure  to  fullil  his  promises. 

Froni  Mission  San  Jose  Cerruti  writes  the  18th  of 
April  1875: 

"A  few  days  ago  Mr  Osio,  a  resident  of  California  in  1820,  arrived  in  San 
Francisco,  drugging  along  with  him  a  manuscript  history  of  the  early  times 
ill  (.'alifornia.  I  believe  he  originally  intended  to  give  it  to  your  library, 
l)ut  certain  persons  whose  acquaintance  ho  happened  to  make  induced  him 
to  reconsider  his  resolution,  and  made  hini  believe  that  there  was  money  in 
it.  Actuated  by  that  belief,  he  has  given  Ids  manuscript  to  Mr  Hopkins, 
keeper  of  the  archives  in  San  Francisco,  with  a  pi'aycr  for  enough  subscribers 
to  pay  for  printing  it.  I  believe,  with  judicious  diplomacy  and  a  little  coin, 
you  could  get  some  person  to  purchase  the  manuscrii)t  for  your  library.  I 
think  Mr  Knight  would  be  tlic  right  man.  If  I  thought  I  could  gain  a. 
point  by  going  to  San  Francisco  I  would  cheerfully  do  so;  but  I  fear  tny 
mixing  in  the  matter  would  cause  a  rise  in  tlio  price  of  the  manuscript." 

Being  in  San  Jos()  one  day  in  November  1  877,  I 
called  on  Juan  Malaiin  in  relation  to  the  Osio  his- 
tory, which  Vallejo,  Oerruti,  Savage,  and  others,  had 
at  various  times  during  tlie  pa.st  three  years  en- 
deavored to  obtain.  Th(3  original  of  this  important 
work  belonged  to  J.  R.  Arques  of  Lawrence  station, 
into  whose   hands   it  fell  as  executor  of  the  estate 


I 


M 


643 


FURTHER  INGATHERINGS. 


of  Argiiello,  to  whom  the  manuscript  was  presented  by 
the  author.    Oslo  was  then  living  in  Lower  CaUfornia. 

Malarin  was  non-committal :  said  he  had  no  owner- 
ship in  the  manuscript,  but  did  not  think  Arques 
would  regard  favorably  the  proposition  to  lend  nic 
the  manuscript,  though  he  did  not  say  why.  Mr  John 
T.  Doyle  had  taken  a  copy  of  it;  likewise  James  A. 
Forbes.  From  the  latter  Malarin  thought  I  miglit 
obtain  a  copy  if  I  was  prepared  to  pay  down  money 
enough.  On  returning  to  San  Francisco  I  imme- 
diately called  on  Mr  Doyle,  who,  as  soon  as  I  had 
stated  my  errand,  exclaimed:  "You  shall  have  the 
manuscript,  and  may  copy  it;  and  anything  else  that 
I  have  is  at  your  disposal.  You  have  fairly  earned 
tlie  right  to  any  historical  material  in  California,  and  I 
for  one  am  only  too  glad  to  be  able  to  acknowledge 
that  right  in  some  beneficial  way."  That  settled  the 
matuer. 

About  this  time  I  found  myself  greatly  in  need  of 
a  manuscript  history  of  the  Bear  Flag  movement 
by  Mr  Ford,  a  prominent  actor  in  the  scene.  Thi; 
manuscript  was  the  property  of  the  reverend  doctor 
S.  H.  Willey  of  Santa  Cruz,  to  whom  I  applied  for 
it.  Doctor  Willey  responded  cheerfully  and  promptly, 
not  only  sending  me  the  Ford  manuscript,  with  [)er- 
mission  to  copy  it,  but  also  other  valuable  material. 
"I  take  pleasure  in  lending  it  to  you,"  he  writes, 
"that  it  may  contribute  possibly  to  accuracy  and 
incident  in  your  great  work.  The  manuscript  needs 
considerable  study  before  it  can  be  read  intelligently. 
Mr  Ford  was  not  much  accustomed  to  writinjj.  Gen- 
oral  Bidwcll  says  he  was  a  very  honest  man,  but  a, 
man  liable  to  be  swayed  in  opinion  by  the  prejudices 
of  his  time.  His  manuscnpt  seems  to  modify  tlio 
current  opinion  touching  ]\Ir  Fremont's  part  in  Bear 
Flag  matters."  Doctor  Willey  also  gave  me  a  very 
valuable  manuscript  narrative  of  his  own  recollection^s. 

Notwithstanding  all  that  had  been  done  up  to  this 


YET  OTHER  EFFORTS. 


648 


time,  I  felt  that  I  should  have  more  of  the  testimony 
of  eye-witnesses.  Particularly  among  the  pioneers  of 
and  prior  to  1849,  and  among  the  native  Californians 
inhabiting  the  southern  part  of  the  state,  there  was 
information,  difficult  and  costly  to  obtain,  but  which 
I  felt  could  not  be  dispensed  with. 

Mr  Oak  suggested  we  should  make  one  more  ap- 
peal, one  final  elFort,  before  finishing  the  note-taking 
for  California  history;  and  to  this  end,  the  25th  of 
August  1877,  he  addressed  over  liis  own  signature 
a  communication  to  the  San  Francisco  Bulletin,  re- 
viewing what  had  been  done  and  sketching  what  was 
still  before  us. 

Extra  copies  of  this  article  were  printed  and  sent 
to  school-teachers  and  others  throughout  the  coast, 
with  the  request  that  they  should  call  u|)()n  such  early 
settlers  as  were  within  their  reach  and  obtain  from 
them  information  respecting  the  country  at  the  time 
of  their  arrival  and  subsequently.  For  writing  out 
such  information,  for  one  class  would  be  paid  twenty 
cents  a  folio,  and  for  another  less  desirable  class  and 
one  more  easily  obtained,  fifteen  cents  a  folio  was 
ofl'ered.  Not  less  than  five  thousand  direct  applica- 
tions were  thus  made,  and  with  the  happiest  results; 
besides  which  Mr  Leighton,  my  stenographer,  took 
some  sixty  additional  dictations  in  and  around  San 
Francisco,  and  Mr  Savage  made  a  journc}^  south,  a 
full  account  of  which  is  given  in  another  place.  Thus 
I  went  over  the  ground  repeatedly,  and  after  I  had 
many  times  congratulated  myself  that  my  work  of 
collecting  was  done;  in  truth  I  came  to  the  conclu- 
sion that  such  work  was  never  done. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

PRELIMINARY  AND  SUl'I'LKMKN  TAL  VOLUMES. 

IVriculosae  pleinnii  opus  aleae, 

Traotas;  et  iiu'oilis  jut  igiies 
Supposittia  ciiieri  iloloso.  Iltvriice, 


As  I  liave  e1sewliei'i>  riMnarkecl,  tlio  soul  and  cen- 
tre of  tliis  litonuy  uiuliTtaklnu;  was  tlio  Jlistory  of  the 
Pacijk  Skifcii:  the  Xatire  Ixacc.^  bring  proliminary,  ami 
the  ('ah'f(n')ii(i  l*a.'<f()ral,  Infer  Pacnla,  l*()pular  Trihvinils, 
K'<f<a}js  and  Mificclldin/,  and  Lifcrcm/  LKhnifrics  sup])l(^- 
mental  thereto.  To  tl\e  lii.story  appears  a  biographi- 
cal section  entitled  Cfn'0)iMes  of  the  linildcrs  of  the 
Commo)nrcalih 

Of  the  inception  and  execution  of  the  Native  Races' 
I  give  elsewhere  tiie  full  liistory.  The  Cal/fdriuu 
Patiforal,  if  not  born  so  absolutely  of  necessity,  was 
none  the  less  a  legitimate  oft'spring.  In  the  history 
of  California  under  the  donunion  of  Mexico,  niany 
of  the  most  charming  features  in  the  precincts  (I" 
home  and  minor  matters,  in  the  peculiarities  of  the 
people,  and  regarding  their  social  and  iiolitical  be- 
havior under  the  influence  of  their  isolation  and 
strange  enviromnent,  were  necessarily  onutted.  Ot 
that  remahiing  from  this  sujterabundance  of  material. 
I  took  the  best,  and  weaving  with  it  some  antiqui' 
foreign  facts  and  later  fancies  of  my  own,  I  embodicvl 
the  result  in  a  se])arate  volume,  and  in  a  more  attract- 
ive form  than  could  be  presented  in  condensed  history. 

In  like  maimer  into  a  volume  entitled  Califoriiid 
I)der  Pociila  were  thrown  a  multitude  of  episodes  and 
incideftts  following  or  growing  out  of  the  gold  discoN  - 

V  fi50  ) 


'PASTORAL'  AND  MNTEK  I'OCULA". 


661 


ery,  which  could  not  he  vividly  portrayed  without  a 
tolerahly  free  uae  of  words,  and  could  not  be  con- 
denned  into  the  more  soli* I  forms  of  history  witliout,  to 
some  extent,  stiflinuf  the  life  that  is  In  them,  and  niar- 
rinjLC  their  oriuinalitv  and  heautv.  Indei'd,  of  this 
class  of  matnial,  eni^endered  durinsj^  the  flush  times 
and  aftiTward,  I  had  enough  left  over  of  a  i^ood  (jual- 
ity  to  fill  a  dozeti  volumes. 

It  is  dittieult  to  imaufine  a  more  miraculous  trans- 
formation of  human  afl'airs,  u]>on  the  sanu;  soil  and 
under  the  same  sky,  than  that  wliich  occurred  in 
California  durin*^  the  years  1S48  and  1841).  Prior  to 
this  time,  the  two  stretclies  of  seaboard  five  hun(h'ed 
miles  ou  tsither  sidti  of  San  Francisco  bay  and  run- 
niui?  back  to  the  summit  of  tlie  Sierra,  was  occuj>ied 
by  races  of  two  several  shades  of  duskiness,  and  divers 
degrees  of  intelligence,  the  one  representative  (f  the 
lowest  tl(>pths  of  savagism,  and  the  other  the  most 
(juicscent  state  of  civilization.  Tiu;  former  went 
naked,  or  nearly  so,  att^  grassho|)[)ers  and  reptiles, 
among  other  things,  and  burrowed  in  caves  or  hid 
themselves  away  in  brush  huts  or  in  thickets.  The 
latter  dreamed  life  lazily  away,  lapiu'd  in  every  luxury 
bounteous  nature  could  offer,  unburdeneil  by  care, 
delighting  in  dress  and  display,  l)ut  hating  work  and 
all  that  self-denvijig  effort  which  alone  brinixs  superi- 
ority.  Thesi!  migrated  Mexicans  attended  with  scrup- 
ulous regularity  alikt;  on  all  the  ordinance  of  the; 
])riests  of  Christ  an<l  tlie  discit)les  of  Satan,  an<l  then 
passed  into  the  hereafter  without  ever  knowing  how 
completely  they  had  been  deceived. 

On  all  sides  tluTo  Avas  a  condition  of  things  whicli 
seems  to  have  set  at  defiance  thi'  laws  of  evolution, 
and  to  have  turned  backward  the  wheels  of  ])rogress. 
While  enjoying  the  most  favorable  surroundings,  vwu 
savagism  appears  to  have  degenerated,  while  the  civi- 
lizaticm  of  Spain  was  rapidly  falling  into  a  kind  of 
catholic  savagism.  In  the  place  of  those  new  neces- 
sities which  arc  usually  generated  by  new  activities 


W2 


PRELIMINARY  ANI>  HUI'l'LEMENTAL  VOLUMES. 


I  *ii; 


when  predatory  tribes  cease  from  dissipating  tlieir 
whole  time  in  war,  there  was  here  utter  stagnation 
among  tho^e  both  of  the  American  aiul  the  Latin  race. 
As  matters  then  stood  tliere  was  no  more  hkehliood 
of  innuediate  iini)rovement  in  tlic  way  of  art  or 
Hcience  than  that  a  s[)inirmg-\vheel  or  steam-engine 
should  be  constructed  by  a  people  to  whom  cotton  or 
iron  was  unknown.  Instead  of  higher  forms  being 
here  evolved  from  lower,  it  would  si^cni  that  reptiles 
wi-re  s[)ringing  from  biids  and  monkisys  from  men. 
Theology,  tliough  dogmatic,  was  in  a  measure  strij)pod 
of  its  sting.  Whatever  their  ])ractice,  their  code  of 
tithics  was  as  far  as  [)ossible  n-nioved  from  the  don:ain 
of  coimnon  sense.  And  even  in  tlu;  more  advanced 
comnmnities,  if  social,  moral,  and  religious  ]>rejudices 
were  analyzed  instead  of  blindly  cherished,  what  a 
world  of  folly  would  be  revealed  1 

In  the  far  north,  along  this  same  coast,  at  this  very 
time  were  two  other  phases  of  life,  both  of  which  were 
abnormal  and  individual,  one  behig  represented  by  the 
Muscovite,  the  other  by  the  Anglo  Saxon.  While  Bar- 
anof  sat  in  Sitka,  John  McLoughlin  on  the  Columbia 
ruled,  to  the  full  measure  of  life  and  death,  a  hundred 
savage  nations,  occupying  an  area  five  times  as  large 
as  that  of  the  British  Isles.  S(jcrates  said  that 
parents  should  not  marry  their  children  because  of 
t!ie  discrepancy  in  their  ages.  One  would  think  so 
great  a  ]3hilosopher  as  Socrates  might  have  found  a 
better  reason  for  forbidding  so  monstrous  a  crime 
ajxainst  nature.  The  autocrat  of  Fort  Vancouver  ad- 
vocated  the  marriage  of  chief  factors  and  traders  with 
the  daughters  of  Indian  chiefs,  setting  the  example 
himself  by  mingling  his  blood  with  that  of  the 
American  aboriginal.  One  would  think  that  so  grand 
a  ijentleman  as  McLouohlin  should  need  a  better  rea- 
son  than  wealth,  power,  position,  or  the  mandate  of  a 
monopoly  to  compel  him  to  forego  noble  succession 
and  spawn  upon  the  world  a  hybrid  race.  "It  is  the 
rich  who  want  most  things,"  says  the  Chinese  pro- 


U 


'ESSAYS'  AND  '  INDUSTRIES.' 


6r)» 


verb ;  the  blessed  poor  of  New  Caledonia,  besides  the 
hope  of  heaven,  might  have  children  of  their  own 
rare.  If  God  made  me  for  bright  immortality,  well ; 
if  for  opaque  gloom,  why  then  well  also;  I  am  not  a 
grub  that  may  transform  itself  into  a  butterHy;  but 
while  in  this  world,  whatever  betides,  I  may  always 
be  a  man,  and  father  n<»iie  who  can  justly  lay  at 
my  door  the  cause  of  their  degeneration,  mental  or 
]th3^sical. 

In  regard  to  the  volumes  entitled  Kssai/s  <ntd  Mt.^- 
cellany  and  Literary  I)i(hi.s(ri'('s  they  shall  speak  for 
themselves.  But  of  my  two  volumes  called  Jhpukn- 
Tribmiah  I  will  here  make  a  few  exi>lanatlons. 

The  publication  of  the  A\ifirr  Jidcc.^  began  the  1st 
of  October,  1874,  and  continued  with  the  appearance 
of  a  volume  every  three  montlis  until  Christmas, 
1875,  at  which  time  complete  sets  of  the  whole  five 
volumes  were  for  sale  in  the  several  stvles  of  bindin<;. 

Never  at  any  time  was  I  in  a  state  of  great  anxiety 
to  publish.  There  was  ever  before  me  a  healthy  fea  • 
of  the  consequences.  I  could  always  wait  a  little 
longer  before  seeing  my  fondest  and>ition,  perhaps, 
dashed  to  earth.  There  was,  no  doubt,  some  feverisli 
eagerness  prior  to  the  publication  of  the  Native  Ixacei^, 
regarding  the  manner  in  which  it  would  be  received  ; 
but  ever  after  that,  it  was  in  the  quality  and  progress 
of  my  writings  that  I  chiefly  concerned  myself,  the 
end  beino;  a  matter  to  be  retvretted  rather  than  a  con- 
summation  devoutly  to  be  longed  for.  There  was 
with  me  a  constant  anxiety  to  press  forward  my  writ- 
ing; I  had  but  a  short  time  to  live  and  very  nmch  to 
do.  But  when  I  saw  how  my  first  work  was  received, 
and  how  I  should  stand  with  the  literary  woi-ld  after 
its  publication,  I  determined  to  print  nothing  more 
for  several  years.  I  had  several  reasons  for  adopting 
such  a  resolution. 

In  the  first  place  I  had  nothing  ready  to  publish  ; 
and  no  one  ever  realized  more  fully  than  myself  that 


'I 

■!'! 

■  jr 


C04 


PHKUMINAUY  AND  SUl'lM.KMENTiU.  VOLUMES. 


I: 


i  I 


it  takes  time  and  work  to  make  a  <j;ood  book.  History 
writlni,''  cannot  l)o  liurried.  Certain  years  of  time  are 
necessarv  tor  tlie  preparation  of  every  volume,  sonie 
more  and  some  less,  anil  twenty  men  for  five  years  I 
estimate  as  equivalent  to  one  man  one  hundred  years. 
It  is  true  I  could  carry  forward  certain  volumes  col- 
lateral to  the  history  whose  imhlicjition  I  had]>lanned, 
hut  all  these  I  thoujifht  best  to  hold  back  until  after 
the  liistory  [)roi)er  was  ])ul)lished. 

In  the  next  place  I  thought  it  better  to  Ljive  the 
public  a  little  rest.  I  did  not  wish  to  weary  people 
of  the  subject. 

My  books  were  heavy  and  expensive,  and  to  issue 
them  too  rapidly  mitdit  cheajien  tliem  in  the  eyes  of 
.some.  But  more  than  any  other  reason  why  I  would 
publi.sh  nothijiy  more  for  several  years  was  this:  I 
had  now,  so  to  say,  the  ear  of  tin;  public.  I  stood  as 
well  as  the  author  of  a  fir.st  l)ook  coul«.l  stand.  What- 
ever of  i»()od  opinion  there  was  abroad  for  me  and  for 
my  work  I  would  keep  and  give  all  the  benefit  of  it 
to  my  history. 

It  was  my  an\bition  to  dt)  for  this  last  western 
earth's  end  what  Homer  did  for  Greece,  with  tlu!se 
diiferences :  Homer  dealt  in  myths,  I  should  deal  in 
facts;  Homer's  were  the  writings  of  Poetical  genius, 
miiu!  of  plodding  })rose.  And  yet  as  llerder  says  of  it, 
"Als  Homer  «>esunL''en  hattc,  war  in  seiner  Gattung 
kein  zweiter  Homer  denkbar;  jener  hatte  die  BlUtlie 
des  epischen  Krauzes  gepHlickt  und  wer  auf  ihn  folgte, 
mus/ic  sich  mit  einzeliuni  Bliittern  begnUgen.  Die 
griechischen  Trauerspieldichter  wiihlten  sk-h  also  eine 
andoro  Jjaufbahu;  sio  aszen,  wie  ^schylus  sagt,  voni 
Tisclie  Homer's,  berelteten  aber  fUr  ihr  Zeitalter  eiu 
anderes  Gastmal." 

Right  well  I  knew  that  often  literary  failure  had 
been  followed  by  literary  success  and  vice  versa.  Now 
I  would  not  that  my  second  attempt  should  prove  in- 
ferior to  the  first.  When  once  the  ultimate  of  my 
capabilities  was  attained  I  would  stop.     I  labored  for 


POPUI^R  TKIBUNALS.' 


G»5 


tlio  strcnpftli  it  sjavo  inc ;  when  it  should  result  in  men- 
tal or  n»oml  woaknoHs  tiu'n  my  life's  work  was  clone. 

In  the  supplenu^ntary  works  I  indulj^fd  in  a  wider 
latitude  as  to  the  choice  of  auhjerts,  tlif  exprrssion  of 
•  HMnion,  an<l  i^ivinjy^  my  faculties  freer  play  in  tin;  exe- 
cution. Cons(>quently,  while  th(\y  weri'  more  myself 
than  ahnost  any  of  my  other  work,  tliey  wen;  mor<! 
open  to  criticism,  and  would  be,  I  felt  huvv.,  severely 
viewed  in  ci'rtain  (quarters,  llence  it  was  that,  all 
thiniL;s  considered,  I  resolved  to  writt;  some  twenty  vol- 
nmesl)efore  printing  further,  an<l  rewriti;  until  I  should 
be  satisfied,  when  I  would  have  them  copied  so  as 
to  divide  the  risk  of  tire, — which  was  done. 

During  the  two  years  and  more  my  assistants  were 
enij:a<jed  in  takinjj:  out  notes  on  Califoinia  historv.  1 
wrote  the  two  volumes  entith'd  Popular  Trilmi  t% 
making  of  it  at  first  three  volumes  and  then  reducing 
it.  I  began  thi.o  Vt>rk  in  IH?;'),  finished  the  first  writ- 
ing of  it  in  1877;  revising  and  ])ublishing  it  ten  years 
litter.  I  began  It  as  an  e[)isode  of  (^difor-nian  history 
which  would  occupy  three  or  four  chapters,  and  which 
I  could  easily  write  during  the  three  or  four  montlis 
in  which  I  suj)posed  the  note-takers  would  bo  engage<l. 
Tlie  note-taking  was  six  times  the  labor  I  had  aiitici- 
})ated,  and  so  was  Popuhir  Tn'hininfs. 

As  I  did  not  like  to  interrui)t  the  notc-tnking,  wliicli 
was  being  done  under  the  direction  of  ^Ir  Oak,  I  de- 
rived little  help  on  this  work  from  ii\y  assistants. 
When  at  Oakviile,  White  Sulpher  springs,  or  Santa 
Cruz,  such  material  as  I  lacketl  1  wrote  for  and  it  was 
sent  to  me. 

The  method  I  adopted  in  this  writing  was  as  fol- 
lows: The  subject  seemed  to  divide  itself  about 
e(jually  betwecui  the  outside  or  public  workings  of  the 
institution,  and  the  inner  or  secret  doings.  For  the 
former,  there  were  the  journals  of  the  day,  and  a  few 
disordered  and  partial  statements  pi'inted  in  books. 
There  was  no  liistorv  of  the  viiiilancc  '^onnnittee 
movement  m  existence. 


1^1 


■'..t 


il,, 

r 
if 


u 


'i     ! 
I     1 


i: 


656 


]'UKI,l.\tlNAUY  AND  SUrPLEMENTAL  VOLUMES. 


As  a  rule  m'WS[)a|H^r  iv]H>rt8  arc  not  the  most  re- 
liable testimony  u}h>u  wliii-h  to  base  history.  But  in 
this  itistaiu'o  this  class  of  ovidiMioe  was  the  very  best 
that  could  exist.  S}>reatliji«4  before  me  six  or  eijjjht  of 
the  chief  journals  of  the  day,  I  had  in  tluMH  so  many 
eye-witncssi>s  of  the  facts,  written  by  ki'en  fact-hunt- 
ers wliile  the  incidents  were  yd  warm,  and  thrown  out 
nmon*:;  a  ]»eo|)le  who  knew  as  much  of  what  was  l>;o- 
injj,'  on  as  the  newspaper  reporters  themselws,  so  that 
vvvvy  misstatiMuint  was  (]uickly  branded  as  such  by 
jealous.  com[»etinn'  journals  and  by  a  ji>alous  public. 
3  b  re  was  every  ad  van  taL'V.  For  the  transact  i(»ns  of 
each  day,  and  each  liour,  I  could  marshal  my  wit- 
nesses, takuii;'  tlu>  testimony  (»f  each  as  it  was  i»iveii 
iU'cordin<;"  to  actual  o»'currenci>,  takinjjf  it  with  a  full 
knowledoe  of  the  prejudu-es  and  }>rochvitii>s  of  each 
witness.  Thus  {'ov  a  review  of  each  ilav's  doin«j;s, 
radical  on  the  side  o{'  vli^ilance,  1  took  the  Jiiillctiii. 
h\>r  (K'scrlptlon  of  the  sanu'  evi'uts  t'rom  the  rabid  law 
and  onK  r  point  of  view,  I  examined  the  Herald.  For 
nu)re  moderate  expri>ssion  o'i  facts  and  opinions  still 
li'anino-  to  the  side  of  vij^ilance,  I  looked  through  tlu- 
.Ufa  (\ih'f\irnia,  t]\c  Sacra iiu/ifo  rin'o)i,  ihc  CounVr, 
Chro)url(\  and  Tmni  Talk. 

Thus  at  njv  command  wt're  a  dozen  or  twenty  report 
ers  to  search  the  cltv  for  items  and  i>ive  them  to  nic ; 
and  thus  I  went  over  the  si'veral  years  of  this  eplsod*'. 
i)oint  bv  point.  brinLrin«>;  In,  coimectinir,  contli'iisinu, 
until  I  had  a  compK>te  narrative  from  the  beL!;innin»j; 
to  the  end,  of  all  tlu\se  stran«4;t'  doings. 

This  for  the  outsidt>  of  the  subject.  Rut  there  vet 
remaininl  an  iniu>r.  hidden,  and  hitherto  obstinatiMV 
veiled  part,  which  was  now  for  the  first  time  to  he 
ri>vealed.  Tliert>  had  been  at  various  times,  b(ttli  hi 
fore  and  after  the  disbandment  of  the  conunittee,  ]>ro 
posals  for  publlshinsv  a  liistory  of  the  movement,  but, 
none  of  them  had  been  seriously  t'utertained  by  the 
conunittee.  Indeed  It  was  not  reo^arded  as  safe  to  re- 
veal  their  secrets.     These  men  had  broken  the  law, 


TllK  MKN  OK  VKULANCK 


657 


;m«l  wlillc  ill  truth  tluv  wero  law-abldiiisj:  cUiz(>ns, 
ihoy  wcvv  siil)j(>ct  to  ]uiMislmieiit  l)y  tlio  law.  Socit'cy 
liad  Ik'i'm  fVinn  tlu'  ln';jjiiHiiinjj  tluM'iinlinal  virtu«M)f't1u' 
association.  Ahsoluto  «;«)0(l  faith,  one  toward  anothci" ; 
it  was  herein  tlu-ir  rnwxt  str(>n<xth  and  otlicicncv  Ijiv. 

Tlicri',  miolit  ho  sonu>  nicnihcrs  nioro  t'oarloss,  and 
witli  hroiidor  aii<l  nioi'(>  int(>Hii;cnt  views  than  the 
others,  wlio  could  sei'  no  oi)jeetion  to  plaeiniif  on 
record  foi'  the  henetit  of  mankind,  in  suhsecjueiit  at»es, 
tlie  whole  truth  and  di'tails  of  th(^  traoical  affaii's  of 
the  association,  who  vet  did  not  feel  at  lihcrtv  to  do 
so  as  lonuj  as  otluM's  inter[>osed  ohjections.  Sucli  ol>- 
jections  wero  inter|)osetl,  and  such  denials  t^iven. 
many  tin»t>s,  until  at  last  the  (juestion  arosi* :  Sh«)uld 
tliese  things  ever  he  I'evealed  !*  or  sliouhl  tlu^  secrets 
of  the  executive  coniniittee  die  with  tlu;  death  of 
tlie  nieinhers?  I  sent  (\'rruti  after  tlu'se  nu'ii,  hut 
Italian  hlandishnients  secnu'i!  to  have  !i;r(>ater  etfect 
upon  his  more  volatile  brothers  of  the  liatiti  race, 
than  upon  thes(>  hard-hea»l(Ml,  col<i-hlo(»(led  Yankees. 
One  of  them  when  spoki'U  to  hy  (\'rruti  ih'i'W  his 
(inner  across  his  throat  siijjnilicaiitly  savlnu'  "  that 
would  he  to  pay  if  I  told  all."  Then  I  waited  ujum 
them  myself. 

"You  have  no  ritj:;ht,"  I  said,  "to  withhold  these 
facts  forever  from  tlie  w<»rld.  Ulstorv  helon-j-s  to 
socieiy.  To  our  childi-en  helonjjj  our  t>xperience8; 
and  if  we  hid(>  the  knowledge  we  hav(^  jjjained  wo  rob 
them  of  a  rinhtful  inlieritance.  Nearly  a  (juarter  of 
a  century  has  now  passed,  ^'ou  have;  not  always  to 
live.  Are  you  williuL;'  to  bear  the  responsibility  of  so 
livoss  a  ha.rbarism  as  the  extinouishment  of  this 
knowdi'd^'c  (" 

Sonu>  were  ccMwinced  others  obstinate.  In  vain 
^fr  Dempster,  now  wholly  with  me,  called  upon  these 
latter,  out;  after  another,  assured  them  that  this  his- 
tory would  be  written,  and  a.sked  if  it  were  not  better 
it  should  be  done  fully,  truthfully,  than  with  only 
half  the  evidence  before  tlie  writer.     No.     They  did 

I.IT.    iMl.      42. 


{<i      I 


(538 


PRELIMINARY  AND  SUPPLEMENTAL  VOLUMES. 


not  wish  to  talk  a])out  it,  to  tliink  about  it.  It  was 
a  horrid  ni^ht-inare  in  their  memory,  and  they  would 
rather  their  children  should  never  know  anything 
about  it. 

For  a  time  the  matter  thus  stood,  so  far  as  the  m(;n 
of  ISfjO  were  concerned.  Meanwhile  the  ijrim  in- 
(juisitors  who  had  so  closely  sealed  their  own  lips 
could  not  v,lK)lly  prevent  their  former  associates  from 
talking-  upon  the  subject.  Little  by  little  I  gathered 
from  one  and  another  information  which  it  had  not 
been  hitherto  deemed  proi)er  to  reveal.  By  repoit- 
ing  to  one  what  another  had  said,  I  managed  to  gain 
from  each  more  and  more. 

Thus,  gradually  but  very  slowly,  I  wedged  my  way 
nito  their  mysteries,  and  for  over  a  year  I  made  ih» 
further  progress  than  this.  Then  I  began  operations 
with  a  stenographer,  making  appointments  with  those 
who  had  taken  an  active  })art  in  one  committee  oi 
the  other,  for  the  purpose  of  taking  down  a  nar- 
rative of  their  early  ex})eriences.  Many  of  these, 
once  started  on  the  line  of  their  lives,  seemed  unabl* 
to  stop  until  they  had  tt)ld  all  they  knew,  as  well 
about  vigilance  connnittoes  as  otlicr  matters. 

This  so  broke  the  crust  that  I  at  lenijth  succeedi'd  in 
persuading  Mr  Bluxome,  the    '  G7  secretary '  of  tlic 
first  connnittee,  and  the  yet  more  famous   '  33  secrt - 
tary '  of  the  second,  to  let  me  have  the   l)ooks  and 
papers  of  the  connnittee  of   1851.      All  these  ^yeais 
they  had  been  locked  in  an  old  iron  safe  to  which  In 
had    carried  the   key.      The  executive    committee   ol 
that  tribunal  had  never  been  so  strict  as  that  of  tlif 
second;  there  had  been  less  op})osition,  less  law,  less 
risk  in  the  first  movement  than  in  the  second:  and 
such  of  the  first  connnittee  as  were  not  dead  or  i\h 
sent  manifested  more  indifference  as  to  the  secrets  «»t' 
their  association. 

Bluxoine  tells  a  story  how  orders  of  court  weit 
wont  to  be  eluded  when  vigilance  papers  were  ordered 
produced. 


VIGILANCK  ARCHIVES. 


G59 


111  one  of  the  many  cases  for  damages  which  fol- 
lowed the  period  of  arbitrary  strangulations  and 
expatriations,  tlie  judge  ordered  the  records  of  the 
stranglcrs  brought  into  court.  Bluxonie  obeyed  the 
sunnnons  in  person,  but  nothing  was  seen  of  books  or 
papers  in  his  possession. 

**  Where  are  the  documents  you  were  ordered  to 
Ijring  ? "  demanded  the  judge. 

"I  do  not  know,"  replied  Bluxome. 

"Are  they  not  in  your  possessiou?" 

"No." 

"You  had  them?" 

"Yes." 

"What  did  you  do  with  them?" 

"  I  delivered  them  to  Schenck." 

"Where  are  they  now?" 

"I  do  not  know." 

Dismissed,  Bluxome  lost  no  time  in  hurrying  to 
Schenck,  and  informing  him  of  what  had  happened. 
Scarcely  had  Schenck  passed  tlie  document  to  a  third 
})orson,  before  he  was  summoned  to  H[)[)ear  in  court, 
and  bring  with  him  the  re(|uired  pa[)ers.  After  tes- 
titying  as  Bluxome  had  done,  the  person  to  whom  he 
had  delivered  them  was  summoned  witli  like  n^sult ; 
and  so  on  until  all  concerned  were  heartily  tired  of  it 
and  so  let  the  matter  drop. 

It  was  a  great  triuin[)h,  all  the  archives  of  the  fiist 
committee  safely  lodged  in  tlu:;  library,  and  it  proved 
;i  great  advantage  to  me  in  ojKMiing  the  way  to  t]i»^ 
i)ooks  and  papi^'s  of  tlie  second  committee.  TIk-s  ■ 
were  hi  the  keeping  of  Mr  Dempster,  to  l)e  jidd  in 
trust  by  him;  and  while  he  would  gladly  have  placed 
them  all  in  my  liunds  at  the  first,  he  felt  tluit  he 
could  not  do  so  wltiiout  the  jiermission  of  liis  associates*. 

I  found  it  less  difficult  after  this  to  obt;iin  dictations. 
Atenibers  of  the  conimittee  of  18.jG  were  not  particu- 
larly pleased  that  I  should  bave  so  much  better  facili- 
ties placed  before  me  for  writing  the  history  of  the 
tirst  committee  than  the  second. 


I 


i>. 


CGO 


PRELIMINARY  AND  SUPPLEMENTAL  VOLUMES. 


Man}'  of  theiu  iu)W  came  forward  of  their  own  ac- 
cord and  told  lue  all  they  knew.  The  loth  of  Feb- 
ruary, 1876,  Mr.  Coleman,  president  of  the  committe<.» 
of  1856,  wrote  me,  I  being  then  at  Oakville,  that  he 
was  ready  to  give  me  data.  A  long  and  exceedingly 
valuable  narrative  of  all  the  events  from  the  begin- 
ning to  the  end  was  the  result.  It  was  in  ftict,  a  his- 
tory of  the  movement,  and  from  the  one  most  able  to 
furnish  it.  This  was  sup])leniented  by  a  no  less  val- 
uable and  even  more  thoughtiul  and  })hilosophioal  ii 
document  by  Mr.  Dmnpster.  Likt^wise  from  Truett. 
Smiley,  Bluxome,  and  twenty  others,  I  obtained  in 
terestmg  narratives. 

When  I  had  written  the  narrative  of  the  first  com- 
mittee and  had  fairly  begun  the  history  of  the  move- 
ment of  18.')6,  the  absurdity  of  the  position  assumed 
by  certain  members  struck  me  with  more  force  than 
ever,  and  I  was  determined,  if  possible,  to  have  the 
records  antl  papers  of  tlie  second  conimittee,  1  went 
first  to  Coleman. 

"  I  want  all  the  archives  of  your  committee,"  I 
said.  "  It  is  the  irony  of  folly  to  compel  a  man,  at 
this  day,  to  make  brick  without  straw  when  you  lul^  e 
abundance  of  material  in  your  possession." 

"  Had  it  rested  with  me  you  should  have  had 
everything  h>ng  ago,"  said  Mr.  Coleman. 

Then  I  went  to  Dempster. 

"Did  I  stand  where  vou  do,"  I  ventured  to  affirm, 
"  I  would  not  permit  the  history  of  the  vigilance  com- 
mittee to  be  written  while  those  books  and  papeis 
were  unrev(>aled." 

"  What  would  you  do?"  he  asked. 

"I  would  pay  tio  attention,"  I  replied,  "to  tlie 
wishes  of  those  few  wise  men  of  Gotham  who  would 
arbitrate  this  matter  between  eight  thousand  vi'-i- 
lants  and  their  posterity.  They  are  not  tlie  vigilan((' 
committee  ;  they  are  not  a  majority  of  the  executive 
committee." 

"  I  cannot  give  them  up  until  I  am  authorized  to 


COLKMAN  AND  DKMl'STER. 


GGl 


do  SO,"  said  Dempster,  "  but  I'll  tell  you  what  I  will 
do.  Come  to  my  house  where  the  papers  are  ke|)t ; 
take  your  time  about  it,  and  select  and  lay  aside  such 
as  you  would  like.  I  will  then  take  such  documents 
and  show  them  first  to  one  and  then  to  another  of 
tlieso  men,  and  tliey  shall  designate  such  as  they  ob- 
ject to  your  havinjjj." 

And  this  he  did  ;  and  the  n^sult  was  that  no  one 
threw  out  anytliinji;.  But  even  this  did  not  satisfy  me. 
I  wanted  tho  records  and  all  material  extant  on  the 
subject.  I  wanted  tliese  s])read  out  before  me  wliile 
I  was  writino-;  and  I  iinallv  ol)tai)U'd  all  that  I  asktid. 

Thus  I  found  at  my  command  tliree  distinct  sources 
of  information,  namely,  ])rinted  l)ooks  and  news])apers, 
un[)ublished  material  and  the  personal  narratives  of  tlu^ 
mole  consi)icuous  of  those   wlio   ])ariici])ated   in   tlie 

t'VtMlts. 

The  time  of  my  writinpj  this  i'])isode  was  most  op- 
portune Had  I  undertaken  it  sooiu>r, — liad  I  under- 
taken it  witliout  tlie  reputation  the  aut]u»rshi])  of  the 
Xalirc  Racffi  gave  me, — 1  am  sure  I  could  have  obtained 
neither  the  vigilance  arc] lives,  nor  tlie  dictations. 
At  all  events,  no  one  had  been  able  to  secure  these 
itdvantages,  and  many  had  so  endeavored.  On  the 
other  hand,  had  the  matter  been  delayed  nmch  longer, 
those  who  <»ave  hi  their  testimony  would  have  i)asse(l 
l)cyond  the  reach  of  earthly  historians.  And  the 
ame  mii>ht  be  said  re<ji:ardin<ji;  all  my  work.     Probably 


s; 


never  did  opportunity  present  so  many  attractions  foi' 
writing  the  Jiistory  of  a  country.  Time  enough  had 
<'la[)sed  for  li*  '  ^ry  to  have  a  beginning,  and  yet  not 
Jill  were  dead  who  had  taken  part  in  prominent  events. 
In  studying  the  \  igilance  (juestion,  I  began  with 
unbiased  views.  I  had  never  given  the  subject  seri- 
ous thoutjht,  nor  had  I  heard  the  arguments  on  either 
side.  I  had  not  proceeded  far  in  my  investigations 
hefore  I  became  convinced  that  the  people  were  not 
only  right,  but  that  their  action  was  tlie  only  thing 
they  could  have  done  under  the  circumstances.     I  ar- 


il 


.11 


i>  i| 


I 


}■ 


ft    ^1 


662 


riiELIMINARY  AND  SUITLEMENTAL  VOi.UMKS. 


rived  at  this  conclusion  in  summing  up  the  argumentti 
of  the   opposite    side.     The    more    I    examined    tlio 

f  rounds  taken  by  the  law  and  oider  party,  tlio  more 
became  convinced  that  they  were  untenable,  and  so  1 
became  a  convert  to  the  principles  of  vigilance  througli 
the  medium  of  its  enemies,  and  before  I  had  heard  u 
word  in  tlielr  own  vindication.  Furtlier  than  tliis, 
my  veneration  for  law,  legal  forms,  and  constitutions 
gradually  diminislu^d  as  the  sophisms  of  their  wor- 
shippers became  more  palpal)le.  I  see  nothhig  more 
sacred  in  tlie  statutes  men  have  made  tlian  in  the  m<ii 
wlu)  made  them.  I  claim  that  the  majoritv  of  anv 
people  possess  the  right  to  revolutionize;  otherwise 
oui's  would  still  be  the  dark  ages.  At  all  events, 
however  worsliipful  written  laws  and  constitutions 
may  be,  ])eople  will  overturn  them  or  set  them  asuK^ 
when  necessity  demands  it,  whether  they  have  tlic 
right  or  not.  What  Is  right  ?  Were  the  framers  ef 
antique  laws  so  immaculate  that  tliey  should  be  able 
to  provide  for  every  future  emergency?  But  tlic 
vigilance  movement  was  no  revolution  ;  neither  did 
any  member  of  the  committee  wish  to  subvert  oi' 
ovc;rthrow  the  laws.  They  merely  aimed  to  assiM 
impotent  courts  in  the  administration  of  the  law. 
As  I  proceeded  in  my  investigations,  I  saw  on  tlic 
one  side  crime  rampant,  the  law  prostituted,  the  bal- 
lot-box under  the  control  of  villains  of  various  dy^  . 
the  tools  of  men  of  intellect  and  education  liiufh  in 
office.  I  saw  between  the  two  extremes,  between  t]\<- 
lower  and  ui)per  strata  of  this  fraternity  of  crime,  be- 
tween tlie  whilom  convict,  now  election  inspector, 
poll-fighter,  supervisor,  and  petty  political  thief,  be- 
tween these  and  the  governor  and  supreme  judges,  a 
multitude  anxious  to  maintain  the  existhig  state  <  I' 
things.  These  were  lawyers,  whose  living  was  al- 
fected  by  such  disturbance ;  judges,  whose  dignity 
was  outraged;  sherift's,  whose  abihty  was  called  in 
question,  and  with  them  all  the  skum  of  socieiy, 
hangers    on   about    courts,    policemen,    pettifoggers, 


TIIK  TWO  SIDES. 


cn:; 


and  thieves, — all  who  played  in  the  filthy  puddle  of 

j«)litic.s. 

When  I  saw  this  <'l('iiieiit  hiuulod  in  support  of  law, 
or  rather  to  smother  law,  and  o[)poHc'd  to  tlieni  th(> 
i<;reat  mass  of  a  free  and  intellii^ent  }»eoplc,  reprt^sent- 
ing  the  wenlth  and  industry  of  tin;  state,  merehants, 
meehanies,  lahorliijj^  men,  hankt-rs,  miners,  and  farm- 
ers, men  who  troul)l<'d  themselves  little  ahout  })olitieal 
trehniealities  and  forms  (jf  law,  exeept  Avhen  caught 
ill  it  meshes — when  I  saw  these  men  drop  their  farms 
and  merehandise  and  vise  as  one  man  to  vindicate 
tlieir  dearest  ri;j,hts,  tlie  i)urity  of  the  ]>olls,  safety  to 
life  and  ])i-o]»erty — wlu'n  I  saw  tlieni  rise  in  their 
simple-heartedness  and  integrity  of  purpose,  carefvdly 
(  oimtinu^  the  cost  hcifore  tahint»;  the  stand,  hut,  once 
tcdcen,  ready  to  lay  down  their  lives  in  sup[)ort  of  it, 
and  then  with  consummate  wisdom  and  calm  moder- 
ation, temperiiiij^  justice  witl I  mercy,  pursue  tlieir  high 
]»arposo  to  tlie  end — when  I  saw  them  villilicd,  snarled 
at,  and  thn'atened  with  extermination  hy  jiompous 
demagogues  who  had  placed  themselves  in  power, — I 
was  moved  to  strong  expression,  and  found  myself 
oltliged  repeatedly  to  go  over  my  wi'iting  and  weed 
out  phrases  of  feeling  which  might  otherwise  mar 
the  re(H)rd  oi'  that  singular  social  outhurst  which  I 
aimed  to  give  in  all  honesty  and  evenly  halanced 
truthfulness. 

As  to  the  separate  section  of  the  history,  the 
Chronicle!^  (>t  the  Bidldcrs  of  the  Covimonircalth,  1  may 
truthfully  say  that  it  was  evolved  from  the  necessi- 
ties of  the  case.  Tlu^  narrative  of  events  could  not 
he  properly  written  with  the  hiographies  of  those  who 
had  made  the  country  what  it  is  included,  and  it 
was  not  complete  without  them;  hence  the  separate 
work. 

Among  other  lessons  learned  while  writing  this 
work  was  never  to  come  too  near  the  object  about 
which  you  wish  to  write  well. 


Mi 


CHArTER  XXVII, 

BODY   AND   MINI). 

llanl  students  are  coiiniKialy  lioiililcd  mu'.i  gowts,  ciitarrhs,  rlu'Uiiis, 
itaclicxiu,  bradypcpsiii,  l)!ul  ^y^^•^,  stmio,  and  colliuU,  cnulitii's,  oppilatioii-', 
Vt^rtigo,  winds,  cousuiuiiiidu ;,  and  all  siu'li  d i -iwiHos  aa  como  liy  ovorniui'li 
siltinj^;  tluiy  are  mo.-it  part  lean,  dr.\,  ill-cnloitMl .  .  .  .  jiml  ull  llirmigh  in'- 
niodcrato  jiaina  and  oxttadrdlnary  stndips.  If  yon  ^\  ill  not  Ix-licvo  tlui  triitli 
of  this,  look  upon  tliu  gruat  To.statn.-i  and  Tlu>nia.<  A(piina>i'  works;  and  toll 
mo  wliethcr  tlioMC  lucu  took  pains, 

I'.'irliiii'.t  Auiilitii  II  I'f  Ml liiiii'liiiljf. 

Among  {j^onoral  })]iysiolooical  aial  ps\ cJiolojjjicul  priii- 
fii)lcs  tluso  tniiliSMi't'  now  iv^ankMl  ok'UUMitarv — thati 
the  brain  is  in(liw[)cnsal>U;  to  tli<)U«;]it,  volition,  iind 
foelinL^;  that  tliu  brain  is  tlie  seat  of  thouu'lit,  of  in- 
tellect; thiit  tlie  brahi  bcinsj:  affected  1)V  the  blood, 
the  mhul  is  iniluenced  by  the  (|uality  or  condition  of 
the  blood;  that  witli  the  <j[iiickc^iiing' of  cerebral  circu- 
lation tlioughts,  fcc^liiigs,  and  volitions  arcs  quickened, 
even  up  to  the  pitch  8oini>tinies  of  vtlienient  mental 
excitement,  or  delirium,  and  that  the  (i[ualitj  of  tlie 
l)lood  depends  u})on  food,  air,  exercise,  and  rest. 

Undt^r  great  mental  sti'ain  blof)d  of  the  best  qual- 
ity, pure,  rich,  and  plentiful  may  Ix;  drawn  from  the 
nmscles,  to  the  di'trin'ent  of  the  muscular  system, 
to  meet  the  pressing  emtirgencies  of  the  brahi  and  of 
the  nervous  system ;  nn^l  vice  verm  excessive  physical 
exertion  draws  from  the  mental  faculties  nourishment 
rightly  belonging  to  them.  Tlu^refore  both  mind  and 
muscle  are  alike  dependent  not  less  upon  food  than 
upon  the  blood-puiifying  organs,  lungs,  liver ,  intes- 
tines, and  the  rest. 

The  influence  of  the  mind  upon  the  body,  through 
its  three-fold  states  of  intellect,  emotion,  and  volition, 
is  no  less  great  than  the  influence  of  the  body  upon 

(I'M) 


BllAIN  AND  NEUVKS. 


605 


the  mind.  Those  reciprocal  influences  are  exactly 
balanced.  A  pound  of  one  presses  as  heavily  upon 
the  organism  as  a  pound  of  the  other.  When  the 
(equilibrium  is  destroyed,  the  system  is  soon  out  of 
balance. 

For  good  and  for  evil  the  influence  of  each  upon 
the  other  is  great.  To  the  imagination  we  may  refer 
inucli  of  tlie  otherwise  unexplainablc  morbid  phe- 
nomena springing  from  mesmerism,  si)iritualism,  and 
the  like.  The  imagination  of  St  Francis  d'Assisi  so 
revelled  in  Christ's  sufferings  as  to  bring  upon  liis 
l)ody  the  pains  under  which  Christ  labored.  While 
the  automatic  action  t)f  tlie  brain  upon  the  body  is 
the  occasion  of  many  disorders,  the  will  exercises  no 
small  power  over  the  body,  and  even  on  the  mind 
itself. 

Lucretius  plainly  perceived  that  witli  tlio  Ijody  the 
mind  stremjcthens  and  decays,  wJion  he  said  "Cum 
corpore  mentem,  cresccre  scntinms  pariterque  s(Mies- 
cere,"  Likewise  Ovid  expresses  the  same  opinion : 
"Vitlant  artns  aegrae  contagia  mentis;"  so  that  hi 
all  this  there  is  nothing  nev/. 

]Mind  is  not  that  incori)oreal  essence  which  theology 
once  declared  it,  but  a  tangible  entity  wliich  may  be 
reached  through  the  nervous  system.  The  derange- 
ments of  mind  are  no  longer  regarded  as  exceptional 
visitations  of  the  deity,  but  as  the  result  of  nervous 
disease.  That  which  directs  my  fingers  in  writing  is 
no  less  a  subordinate  and  governable  part  of  me  tli;in 
the  fingers  which  guide  my  pen.  Between  the  wide 
extremes  of  automatic  acts  reflected  from  the  l)raln 
and,  a  priori,  intuitions,  tliere  is  a  vast  field  in  which 
the  impulse  of  will  exercises  full  sway. 

Of  all  organs  the  brain  alone  sleeps.  Other  organs 
may  become  paralyzed,  and  their  functions  cease  wJiile 
yet  the  body  lives,  but  the  first  sleep  of  the  body  is 
its  last  sleep. 

Were  it  not  that  men  conduct  themselves  as  if  they 


1:';]| 


I 


II 
i  9| 


i! 


GM 


BODY  AXn  MINI). 


know  it  not  it  would  sceni  superfluous  at  this  l.ito 
(lay  to  talk  about  exerciso  as  a  requisite  to  healtli. 
We  all  know  that  brain-work  dissipates  the  nervous 
forces  with  ijreater  ra})idity  than  the  most  arduous 
physical  labor;  that  the  nervous  substance  of  tlic 
body  is  exhausted  by  thouijfht  just  as  jthysical  exer- 
tion exhausts  tlu;  muscles.  And  yet  how  few  rei^ard 
the  fact.  ]  [ow  few  enthusiastic  workers  succeed  in 
schooling  their  habits  in  tliat  happy  equilibrium 
which  securi's  health,  and  enables  them  to  make  the 
most  of  both  mind  and  body.  Often  it  is  the  most 
iliiflcult  part  of  the  daily  task,  at  the  appointed  hour 
to  drop  tlie  work  in  which  tl:  -■  mind  is  so  deeply  eii- 
ijjrosstfd,  and  to  drive  one's  self  forth  to  tbose  mechan- 
ical movements  of  the  body  which  are  to  sccuir 
strenu^th  for  anoth(!r  day. 

Some  strength  and  stores  of  health  had  been  laid  in 
for  me,  thanks  to  my  father  who  gave  me  first  an  iron 
constitution,  and  sup})lem<'nted  it  with  that  greatest 
of  earthly  blessings,  work,  in  the  form  of  plowinu. 
l)lanting,  harvesting,  and  like  farm  occu}>ation.  Ami 
I  doubt  if  in  all  the  range  of  educational  processi's, 
mental  and  physical,  there  is  any  which  equals  tlic 
farm.  In  farm  labor  and  management  there  are  con- 
stantly at  hand  new  emergencies  to  cultivate  readi- 
ness of  resource,  and  the  adaptation  of  means  to  vml^. 
Five  years  of  steady  work  on  a  farm  is  worth  more  to 
most  boys  than  a  college  education.  Later  in  life  it 
was  oidy  by  excessive  physical  exercise  that  I  could 
bear  the  (^xcessive  strain  on  my  nervous  system.  I>y 
hard  I'iding,  wood-sawing,  long  walks  and  running,  1 
sought  to  draw  fatigue  from  the  over-taxed  brain,  and 
fix  it  ui)on  the  nmscles.  Often  the  remedy  was  worse 
tlian  the  disease ;  as,  for  example,  when  recreating. 
after  long  and  intense  application,  I  invariably  felt 
worse  than  while  steadily  writinji:.  Rest  and  recrea- 
tion  are  pleasurable  no  less  ideally  than  by  contrast : 
no  work  is  so  tedious  as  play  when  we  are  driven  lo 
it  by  necessity. 


Kxp:iicisi:. 


ci;7 


Altliouujh  culture  is  so  much  loss  nocossa.ry  to  hap- 
])iiK'ss  tliJiu  hcaltli,  yt't  so  fascin,*itiii;jf  is  (]u>  acquisi- 
tion of  ktiowlcdtro,  that  wc  an!  ready  to  sacrifice  all 
for  it.  But  iicviT  is  one  so  l)CL;;uili'(l  as  whcu  oik;  at- 
tempts to  Ix'i^uilc  health.  For  a  day,  or  a  year,  or 
five  years,  one  may  jjjo  on  witliout  re.ipite,  hut  always 
havlni;  to  pay  the  penalty  witli  interest  in  the  i^ml. 

In  all  aids  to  physical  well-heing,  the  trouhlo  is  to 
hecomo  suificii'ntly  inten^sted  in  any  of  them  to  esca])e. 
weariness.  Irksome  exercise  produces  little  benefit. 
The  Instincts  of  activity  nuist  not  be  opposed  by 
mental  aversion.  Wearisome  amusements  are  flat 
pastimes. 

On  seatiu!^'  myself  to  years  of  literary  laboi-,  I 
soucfht  in  vain  some  intellectual  charm  in  nuisclc- 
making.  Thou^di  I  loved  nature,  delighting  in  the 
exhilaration  of  oxygen  and  sunlight,  and  in  the  stinm- 
lus  of  contrary  whids,  and  although  I  \vell  knew  that 
liberal  indulgence  was  the  wisest  economy,  yet  so 
eager  was  I  to  st;e  progress  in  the  long  line  of  woj-k  I 
had  marked  out,  that  only  the  most  rigid  resolution 
(Miabled  me  to  do  my  duty  in  this  regard.  I  felt  that 
[  had  begun  my  historical  efforts  late  in  life,  and 
there  was  nmch  that  I  was  anxious  to  do  before  I 
should  return  to  dust.  In  my  hours  of  recreation  I 
worked  as  diligently  as  ever.  I  sought  such  exercise 
as  hardened  my  flesh  m  the  shortest  time.  If  I  could 
have  hired  some  person  to  take  exercise  and  indulge 
in  recreation  for  me,  every  day  and  all  day,  I  would 
have  been  the  healthiest  man  in  California,  Yet 
though  I  sought  thus  to  intensify  my  exercise  so  as 
to  equal  m}"  desiri's,  I  could  not  concentrate  the  bene- 
fits of  sunshine,  nor  condense  the  air  I  brt-athcd.  J. a 
Rochefoucauld  calls  it  a  wearisome  disease  to  preserve 
health  by  too  strict  a  regimen.  "  C'est  une  en- 
nuycuse  maladie  de  conserver  sa  sante  par  un  tro[) 
grand  regime." 

Nor  is  the  benefit  to  the  mind  of  bodily  exercise 
any  greater  than  the  benefit  to  the  body  of  mental 


f: 

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11' 

HODY  AND  MINI). 


cxorciso.  Bodily  disease  is  no  less  certainly  engen- 
dered when  the  mind  is  left  unengaged  and  the  body 
placed  at  hard  labor,  than  when  the  mind  is  put  to 
excessive  labor  and  the  body  left  in  a  state  of  inac- 
tivity. A  sound  mind  In  a  sound  body  is  only  so- 
cured  by  giving  both  body  and  iHind  their  due  share 
of  labor  and  of  rest.  Wo  are  told  that  wo  cainiot 
serve  two  masters ;  yot  the  intelloctual  worker  whilo 
in  the  Hosh  seoms  to  be  under  such  obligation.  If 
man  wore  all  aiiimal  or  all  intellect,  he  could  live 
completely  the  animal  or  the  intelloctual  life,  living 
one  and  ignoring  the  other  ;  but  being  mai\  and  undoj- 
the  dominion  both  of  the  animal  and  of  the  mental, 
there  is  no  other  wav  than  to  divide  his  allciiiance  in 
such  a  way  as  to  satisty,  so  far  as  possiblo,  both. 
Further  than  this,  betwoon  the  ditt'orent  niontal  facul- 
ties and  betwoon  the  ditforont  physical  faculties,  in 
like  manner  as  between  nu'iital  and  physical  faculties, 
there  are  antagonisms.  One  organ  or  faculty  is  cul- 
tivated, in  some  measure,  at  tlio  expense  of  some 
other  organ  or  faculty.  The  human  machine  is  capable 
of  manufacturing  a  given  quantity  only  of  nervous 
force,  or  brain  ])ower,  and  in  whatsoever  direction  this 
is  api)lio<l,  tlua'o  will  bo  the  growth.  Exact  equality 
in  the  distribution  of  this  force  would  be  to  the  acl- 
vantao'e  of  the  man  as  a  whole,  but  not  to  society 
which  is  progressional,  as  loading  members  crowd 
certain  faculties  at  the  expense  of  the  others.  "  Ex- 
treme activity  of  the  reflective  powers,"  says  Herbeit 
Spencer,  "tends  to  deaden  the  fooling,. ,  while  an  ex- 
treme activitv  of  tl  ^  feelings  tends  to  deaden  the  re- 
fiective  powers." 

Excessive  brain-  )rk  is  undoubtedly  Injurious  to 
bodily  health  ;  but  i  '  the  evil  effects  so  charged  arc 
not  due  to  this  caust  Previous  disease,  confinement, 
or  other  indirect  a*.'  ncy  often  lies  back  of  the  evils 
laid  at  the  door  of  Uicntal  labor.  Indeed,  it  has  been 
questioned  by  physiologists,  whether  a  })erfectly 
healthy  organization  could  be  broken  down  by  brain- 


WOHK  AM)  won  It  Y. 


!>(;•> 


work  ;  but  as  tliorc  is  tin  such  thin<i;  in  nature  ns  a 
perfectly  healthy  or«.5anisin,  tlu!  matter  cjin  never  Ik? 
tested.  As  brain-work  rests  on  a  physujil  basi^  and 
as  there  is  constant  breakint?  down  in  intellectual 
labor,  just  h<»w  much  should  bo  attributed  t<>  tlio 
dire<'t  infhieiHM!  of  mind,  and  how  nnich  to  extrinsic 
njfluencc's  one  cannot  say.  The  body  may  be  alicady 
In  a  sliatti^red  state;  mind  may  direct  the  body  into 
bad  ways,  a!id  so  brini?  it  to  <jjrier;  but  that  the  mind, 
by  fair  and  honest  pressuri;  on  a  juTfect  oioaiiism,  can 
(•rush  it,  is  denied.  But  T  am  satifie(l  that  it  is  the 
confinement  attendint;'  brain  work,  rather  than  brain- 
woi'k  itself  that  does  the  damaijje. 

Worry  is  infinitely  more  consumin<j;  than  work. 
Doctor  Carpenter  charL^'S  worry  and  consecjueiil 
mental  strain  as  the  cause  o*'  the  premature  death  of 
bushiessand  pj'ofi\ssu)nal  m(>n  of  the  |>i'(-sentday.  Can^ 
is  tlu!  sword  which  Damocles  sees  suspended  ov(>r  him 
by  a  hair,  which  disjielsall  happiness.  Scott,  Southey, 
and  Swift  worried  themsels  t-s  to  death ;  so  did  Thack- 
eray, Greeley,  and  ten  thousand  others.  The  chafings 
of  the  mind  are  far  worse  than  those  of  the  body.  He 
who  would  live  long  and  i)erforn;  nmch  mental  work 
nmst  fling  care  t.)  tlu^  \vin<ls.  Sonu>  can  do  this: 
others  cannot.  A  sensiti\i'  mind  is  subject  to  ij^reater 
wear  than  a  mind  of  coarser  ti'xture.  The  finer  the 
intellectual  fibre  the  men;  care  strains  it.  "The  haj)- 
pinoss  of  the  great  majority  of  men,"  says  Lecky, 
"is  far  more  att'ected  by  health  and  by  temperament, 
resulting  from  physical  conditions,  which  again  physi- 
cal enjoyments  are  often  calculated  to  produce,  than 
by  any  mental  or  moral  causes,  and  acute  physical 
sufFerings  paralyze  all  the  energic^s  of  our  nature  to  a 
greater  extent  than  any  mental  distress." 

The  tension  such  as  attends  wild  s[)eculatit»n  is 
nmch  more  wearing  than  the  severest  study.  "It  is 
not  pure  brain  work,  but  brain  excitement,  or  brain 
distress,  that  eventuates  in  brain  degt^neration  and 
disease,"    says   Doctor    Crichton    Browne.       "Calm, 


*''l 

4 


:    I  : 


l- 1 


670 


WODY  AND  MIND. 


vi;^()rous,  severe  mental  lal)or  may  be  far  pursued 
without  risk  or  tletrimeiit ;  but,  whenever  an  element 
of  feverish  anxiety,  wearing  responsibility,  or  vexing 
chagrin  is  introduced  then  come  danger  and  damage.' 
Excessive  fatigue  results  in  a  weakeninij  of  the  facul- 
ties  and  loss  of  memory. 

Francis  (ialton  claims  that  Ixme  and  muscle  as  well 
as  genius  are  j)iaiseworthy  and  hereditary.  Hence 
in  ills  catalogue  of  great  men  along  with  judges, 
statesmen,  conunanders,  scientists,  literati,  poets,  mu- 
sicians, and  divines,  we  have  oarsmen  and  wrestler.s. 

Obviously  tlu;  powerful  physuiiuo  needs  more  exer- 
cise to  keep  it  in  health  than  the  puny  one.  The 
weak,  delicate  woman  is  satistied  with  little  movinL: 
about,  while  the  strong  man's  muscles  ache  if  they 
are  long  kept  idle.  Often  we  see  a  powerful  brain  in 
a  weak  body ;  l)ut  that  is  usually  when  the  mind  has 
been  cultivated  at  the  expense  of  the  body.  A  stronu 
muscular  ))hvsi(iue  absorbs  the  nervous  force  whicli 
might  otherwise  be  employed  for  brain  work.  It 
draws  in  several  ways:  first,  in  l)odily  exertion;  then 
if  the  exercise  has  been  vigorous  the  mind  is  corrcs 
poudlngly  fatigued,  or  at  least  unfit  to  resume  its 
labors  until  the  forces  of  the  l)ody  resume,  to  souk 
extent,  tlu'ir  equilibrium.  Again,  the  intellectual 
energies,  a  great  i)ortion  of  the  time,  are  drowned  in 
slei'i),  the  system  being  meanwhile  occupied  in  tin 
great  work  of  digestion,  which  olniously  draws  upon 
the  nervous  fore  s. 

As  thou'jht  is  influenced  bv  the  material  channcs 
of  the  brain,  so  the  brain  is  influenced  by  the  material 
i'hanges  of  the  body.  Food  and  the  cooking  of  it 
claim  no  unimportant  part  in  the  chemistry  of  mind. 
The  psychological  etl'ect  of  diet  is  not  less  marked 
than  the  physiological  effect.  Cookery  colors  our 
grandest  efl'orts.  The  trite  saying  of  the  French 
"  Cost  la  soupc  qui  fait  le  soldat,"  ap[>lies  as  well  to  lit 
erature  as  to  war.  It  is  a  significant  fact  that  with  tli  • 
revival  of  learning  hi  Italy  was  the  revival  of  cookery. 


KXTEllXAL  A(  ;i:XCIES. 


671 


For  the  influence  of  externals,  of  extrinsic  agen- 
cies, of  bodily  conditions,  and  changes  on  states  of 
mind,  we  have  only  to  notice  lunv  our  moods  are 
affected  by  hunger,  cold,  heat,  fatigue,  by  disease, 
stinmlants,  and  lack  of  sleep.  Very  sensil)ly  Doctor 
Fothergill  remarks:  "When  the  brain  is  well  su})- 
[)licd  by  a  powerful  circulation,  and  a  rich  blood  sup- 
ply from  a  good  digestion  furnishes  it  with  an  abund- 
ance of  i)abulum,  the  cares  of  life  are  borne  with 
cheerfulness  and  sustained  with  equanimity.  But 
when  the  physical  condition  becomes  affected,  a  total 
and  complete  change  may  be  and  connnonly  is  in- 
duced." And  again,  "a  disturbance  of  the  balance 
l)etwixt  the  wastes  of  the  tissues  and  tlie  power  to 
eliminate  such  waste  products  is  followed  by  distinct 
mental  attitudes,  in  which  things  ap[)ear  widely  re- 
mote from  their  ordinary  as[)ect.  This  condition  Is 
much  more  common  than  is  ordinarily  credited  In' 
the  general  public,  or  even  by  the  bulk  of  the  pro- 
fession. The  i)hysical  disturbances  so  produced  are 
distinct  irritability  and  unreasonableness,  wiruh  is 
aggravated  by  a  consciousness  that  there  is  an  elr- 
ment  of  unreason  present — a  tendency  to  be  jK'iturbed 
hy  slight  exciting  causes,  the  mental  disturbance  l>e- 
ing  out  of  all  })roportion  to  the  excitant." 

Yet  we  must  not  forget  tliat  between  the  body  and 
mind  there  are  essential  diffen.Mu^s,  so  far  as  the 
acquisition  of  strength  from  exercise  is  concerned. 
Laidoubtedly  the  miii'\  like  the  body,  enlarges  and 
strengthens  with  exercise,  but  not  In  the  same  yvo- 
jiortion.  Every  arm,  like  the  bhu-ksmith's,  by  proper 
and  persistent  effort  may  be  made  to  swell  and  harden, 
lliough  not  all  in  the  sanu^  degree;  and  to  a  givater 
or  less  extent,  beginning  M'ith  the  child,  and  avoiding 
over-strains,  any  mind  may  bo  trained  into  something 
approaching  that  of  an  intellectual  athletic.  Toward 
the  accomplishment  of  such  a  pur[>os(%  necessity  and 
and)itlon,  in  that  happy  mixtuic^  found  usually  in  the 
intermediate  state    between  liches  and  poverty,  are 


HODV  AND  MIND. 


fi 


most  conducive  to  intclk  ctual  gymnastics.  The  very 
rich  and  tlic  very  poor  are  alike  removed, — the  one  by 
hick  of  opportunity  and  the  other  by  lack  of  inclina- 
tion,— from  long  and  severe  mental  effort. 

V 

A  single  glance  along  the  line  of  names  conspicuous 
in  the  empire  of  letters  is  sufficient  to  excite  wonder 
in  us  how  the  strong  and  sv/elling  intuitions  of  genius 
are  warped  by  tlu^  weather  of  environment.  Inspii'a- 
tion  itself  seems  but  a  pai't  of  that  divine  machine  of 
which  bodv  and  mind  are  the  more  tanoible  en<i:inerv. 

Docs  not  nature  make  a  mistake  ini)lacin<;  a  stroiiu 
and  subtle  intellect  in  suclv  a  little  crazy  withereil 
htxly  as  l)e  Quincey's?  So  weak  and  insignificant 
was  it  that  its  owner  despised  it,  often  neglecting  its 
\  idi>ar  ci-avinu's  bevond  the  limits  of  endurance,  and 
then  feeding  it  o[)ium  to  keep  it  quiet.  Indeed  opiates 
and  stimulants  ])lay  no  small  part  in  the  economy  of 
inspiration.  While  the  intellect  of  the  great  opium 
eater  was  inspired  by  the  hisidious  drug,  Poe's  genius 
was  enlarged  by  rum,  and  Dryden's  by  a  dose  of 
salts.  So  ill-suited  to  each  other  were  l3e  Quhicey's 
mind  and  bodv  that  while  the  one  was  absorbed  in 
some  social  prol)lem,  the  otlier  was  left  to  starve  or 
given  ten  l)oi'rowed  shillings  to  satisfy  its  hunger,  the 
owner  offering  to  put  up  a  fifty  pound  note  as  security. 
For  twenty  years  he  was  a  slave  to  a  vice.  Then  he 
made  a  fight  against  it  and  conquered  it.  This  was 
his  greatest  achievement. 

Back  among  the  Athenians  we  find  in  the  comedy- 
writer,  Cranitus,  another  noble  example  of  victory  on 
the  better  side.  As  his  years  increased  his  fondness 
for  wine  grew  upon  him  so  as  to  in)pair  his  intellec  t. 
For  several  years  his  pen  produced  nothing,  and  it 
was  thouu'lit  his  writiiiix  davs  were  over.  But  when 
very  old  he  appeared  before  the  public  with  a  comedy 
which  was  a  satire  upon  himself,  called  The  Bottle,  in 
which  he  acknowledges  his  desertion  of  the  muse  foi 
a     ncAV    mistress,     and    promised    reformation.      So 


P 


WEAKNESSES  OF  GREAT  MEN. 


G73 


pleased  were  tlie  Atlieiiiaii  critics  at  this  sin;j;iil;\r 
l)i'()(.lucti()ii  of  thtlr  old  favorite,  that  tliey  awarded 
him  the  prize,  though  Aristophanes  had  brou^lit  for- 
ward ill  competition  The  Clouds  which  he  reoardc  d  as 
one  of  liis  best  plays.  Theogins  found  inspiration  in 
|)otations  which  left  him,  as  he  hhnself  says,  not  ab- 
solutely drunk,  nor  yd  (|uite  sober.  The  details  of 
Poe's  foity  years  of  life  are  not  attractive.  Ik- 
friended  as  an  orphan,  he  was  court-martialcKl  at 
West  Point,  and  i'eturninL»'  to  his  bencifactor,  he  was 
kicked  out  of  his  house  for  improper  conduct  toward 
tbe  vounjji;  hostess.  After  a  series  of  swindl'mLT  trans- 
actions,  and  brief  low  rivin;.ij,  he  was  picked  from  the 
gutter  drunk,  and  in  a  few  hours  was  dead. 

Onco  or  twice  or  thrice  to  risk  all  to  win  innnortal 
honors  is  not  so  strange;  but  to  risk  all  habitually, 
with  the  one  fatal  failure  certain  soonc^r  or  later  to 
I omc,  is  more  befitting  insanity  than  genius. 

A  sad  fate  was  that  of  William  Collins,  a  foolish 
fate,  who,  because  his  books  did  not  sell,  became  dis- 
heartened, then  took  to  drink  and  finallv  died  insane. 
J  low  many,  among  the  nmltitudes  of  unsuccessful 
and  broken-hearted,  whose  epitaph  might  be  written 
in  the  same  words. 

Pope  drank  coffee;  Eyron,  gin  ;  Newton  smoked  ; 
Xapok^on  took  snuft';  Lord  Er.skine,  opium;  and 
Wedderburne,  when  he  wished  to  rouse  emotion  in 
some  great  speech,  put  a  blister  on  his  breast.  Cole- 
ritlge,  the  poet  preacher,  made  himself  drunk  with 
opium,  and  for  the  last  eighteen  j'ears  of  jiis  life  was 
under  the  care  of  a  surgeon,  in  whose  house  he  lived, 
1'  itzhugli  Ludlow  ate  opium  and  wrote  the  JlashccsJt 
J'Aifcr.     ]\rangan  drank  li(][uor  and  ate  opium. 

Pope  was  delicate,  irritable,  unhai>i)3'.  At  the  ago 
of  sixteen  a  literary  temperament  manifested  itself  in 
him  as  fully  as  at  any  later  period.  Par  i)ast  mid- 
night Charles  Landj  pored  over  his  belovi'd  books, 
the  ebbing  of  the  brandy  in  the  decanter  which  was 
ever  before  him,  marking  the  departing  hours.     Im- 

LlT.  ISD.    43. 


■i   lit! 


i. 


tm 


k-'^ 


m 


i 


674 


BODY  AND  MIND, 


patience  under  confinement,  a  moral  inal)ility  to  curl) 
conduct  with  conunon-place  conventionalisms  ap[)ear.s 
to  be  the  usual  attendant  on  genius.  As  Patmoi'c 
says  of  Lamb,  "he  would  joke  or  mystifv,  or  pun,  or 
play  the  ImfToon  ;  but  ho  could  not  l)riiii:,'  himself  to 
prose,  or  preach,  or  jtlay  the  philosoplier."  Hence  it 
was  he  "often  passed  for  soniethinuf  between  an  iml)c- 
clle,  a  brute,  and  a  buffoon."  In  trivial  things  irreat 
minds  may  find  diversion,  though  fools  take  })leasui<' 
in  nothing  else.  Some  can  accomplish  more  drunk 
than  can  others  sober. 

Human  nature  has  two  sides,  a  sensual  and  an  in- 
tellectual one.  To  the  fornuT,  even  in  rude  com- 
munities, some  slight  degree  of  shame  intuitively  at- 
taclies,  while  a  corresponding  pride  appears  upon  the 
side  of  the  latter. 

Most  men  come  honestly  enough  by  their  pro- 
pensity for  drhik.  With  some  it  is  an  inJieritance, 
with  others  the  result  of  circumstances,  of  association, 
of  unconcpierable  ills.  The  drinking  man  is  by  no 
means  necessarily  a  sensualist.  The  man  of  large  ap- 
petite or  lust  may  be  his  superior  in  that  direction. 
There  may  be  a  sensualism  of  dress  more  disgusting 
than  the  sensualism  of  driidv. 

Literary  men  are  somewhat  prone  to  excesses,  and 
the  orreater  their  talents,  oftentimes  the  u;reatcr  tluii' 
intemjierance.  If  prone  to  eat,  they  are  gluttons;  it' 
to  drink,  they  are  drunkards;  if  given  to  domestic 
quarrelling,  they  are  anything  but  saints  in  thcii' 
households.  Deep  depression,  often  bordenng  des- 
peration, follows  great  or  prolonged  effort.  In  tin' 
reaction  which  follows,  hap[)y  he  who  can  lapse  into 
comfort  without  the  aid  of  think. 

The  Asiatic  we  condenni  for  brin(jin<jf  to  the  pour 
and  sorrow  l^.den  the  di\dne  drug.      Very  justly  W' 
condemn  them,  thcmgh  England  first  thrust  it  u])iiii 
them,  for  this  portable  ha])piness  is  woe  unutterable 
And  yet  it  is  a  more  refined  madness  than  that  whie)i 


comes  from  intoxicating  drink. 


One  engenders  uitel- 


WINE  AND  OriUM. 


G7d 


Icctiial  l)liss,  wliile  the  other,  after  liftiii'rr  the  l>rutish 
}tart  of  mail  iutotlie  heaven  of  sensuous  jji^ratificatlon, 
phin'..>;es  it  into  an  al>yss  of  besotted  stupidity. 

Whose  is  tlie  greater  wisdom,  1  ask  ;  or  rather,  tlic 
jjjreater  folly, — tlio  ij^reater  madness  ?  Which  brings  to 
man  the  most  joy?  which  cures  and  kills  the  most? 
Wine  colors,  war])S,  disorganizes,  and  degrades  mind, 
exalting  passion  and  fleshly  lusts  ;  opium  stinmlatesthc 
diviner  part,  elevates  and  enlarges  iTitellect,  and  gives 
i)rilliancy  ami  harmony  to  Ideas.  Befon^  we  (juarrel 
with  our  Asiatic  brother  for  stimulating  the  bc-tter 
])art  of  himself,  let  us  abandon  tliis  pluralizing  of  our 
baser  j)ai"t. 

The  intellectual  torpor  produced  by  opium  never, 
like  that  ])roduced  by  wiiu-.  reaches  absolute  moral 
insensibility.  Throughout  all  the  si)lendid  imagery 
brought  to  the  brain  by  the  divine  drug,  the  imperial 
pomp  of  nature  as  displayed  in  dark  tremulous  forests, 
in  broad  i)lains,  lighted  by  a  spectral  sun,  in  the 
eternitv  of  sparkliii'j;  ocean,  the  <2;or<'eous  sky  ])ictures, 
and  the  svmidionies  of  heaveidv  hari>inos  lK)rne  to  the 
dreamer's  car  upon  the  wind,  conscience  is  ever  ] (res- 
ent with  its  duties  and  a[)prehensions  mingled  with  an 
epjiressive  sense  of  growing  lnca})acity.  All  the 
fu'ulties  of  mind  and  bodv  are  i^rostrate  in  the  Circean 
spell,  and  vet  the  nii>;htmare  of  moral  resi>onsibilitv  is 
ever  present,  and  though  lifted  into  celestial  realms, 
from  himself  the  dreamer  cannot  escape. 

TIk*  most  muscular  men  are  not  always  capable  of 
the  orea test  endurance  ;  neither  arc  thc!  stron<»('st  men 
alwavs  the  healthiest.  He  whose  arm  measui'es  ten 
iiiclies  and  lifts  with  ease  six  hundred  pounds,  is  not 
necessarilv  twice  as  healthv  as  the  man  whose  arm, 
live  inches  round,  raises,  with  difficulty,  three  hun- 
dred })ounds.  The  fat,  sound  man,  of  ruddy  comj>lex- 
inii.  being  in  a  state  of  perfect  health,  is  seldom  c;ij)a- 
Me  of  accomplishing  as  nmch  labor,  or  of  enduring  as 
'^reat  fatigue,  as  tlie  thin  cadaverous  person  of  de- 
ranged digestion,  or  imperfect  breathing  apparatus. 


'if 


|J1 

!1 


'  11 


;i!  -I 


07G 


BODY  AND  MIND. 


:i  ,1 


i 


if 

i 


The  f ijxniy  Pope,w]i(>so  spectral  form  every  ni(M?i- 
ing  must  be  wrapjK'd  in  Hamu'l-  to  lioltl  it  toovtlu  i' 
tluriiio:  the  dav,  and  the  diminutive  and  unauhstantial 
ojtium-eater,  with  liis  alabaster  Hesh,  and  whose  frail 
tal)ernaelc  was  taught  to  withstand  the  effects  of 
three  hundred  and  twentv  tjrains  of  the  drut;  dailv. 
were  by  their  intellects  made  giants  capable  of  out- 
lasting formidabli^  pliysiques. 

It  was  once  the  fashion  for  that  tremblingly  sensi- 
tive  mixture  of  love,  hate,  ecstatic  joy,  misanthropy 
and  misery  called  l)y  tiie  gods  to  poesy,  to  die  youi;g. 
Like  the  coral,  wliose  life  is  the  swallowing  of  car- 
b(^nate  of  lime,  while  the  upper  part  is  growhig,  th( 
lower  part  is  dying.  Beginning  with  Chatterton  who 
died  at  eighteen,  the  list  eontiimes  with  Keats'  deatli 
at  twenty -five,  Marlowe's  at  twenty-eight,  Shelky's  at 
twentv-nine,  Bvron's  at  twentv-six,  and  so  on.  i>ut 
both  before  and  since  the  apjiearancc  of  this  divine 
e})idemie,  there  were  men  who  did  not  deem  hispiia- 
tion  incompatible  with  either  conniion  sense  or  Icngtli 
of  years.  Homer  lived  until  long  ]>ast  eighty;  over 
his  wine  cup  leered  Anacreon  at  eighty -tive  ;  King 
David  was  not  youmj;  when  he  s<^rrowfullv  san<x  his 
sms  away  ;  Chaucer  died  at  seventy -two.  Then  tlieie 
was  a  list  of  earlier  departures,  such  as  Shakespeare 
at  fifty-three,  Ben  Jonson  at  sixty-four,  Massengcr 
and  Milton  at  sixty -six,  Dryden  and  Southy  at  sixty- 
eight,  though  indeed  Wordsworth  reached  eighty. 
The  crop  oif  latter  day  poets,  however,  bids  fair  to 
outlast  them  all.  Beginning  with  Bryant,  past  eighty, 
there  were  Wliittier,  Longfellow,  Teimyson,  Holmes. 
Lowell,  and  others  who  "saw  no  reason  why  poets 
should  not  live  as  long  as  other  men. 


It  should  not  be  forgotten  that  while  engaged  in  ii 
difficult  and  confmhig  "work,  a  writer  is  scarcely  him 
self  or  anything  else.     Body  and  mind  both  a  j  in  .ni 
abnorir>arstate.'     Thus  it  is  that  wc  find  the  lives  et 
authors  in  direct  contrast  to  their  teachings.     Yet  this 


XAirUAL  AND  ACQUIRED  ABILITIKS, 


677 


inspiration,  this  abnormity,  or  wliat  you  will,  must 
1)0  his  who  would  as[»iro  to  an  inti^lectual  st'at  very 
tar  above  his  fellows.  Few  are  educated  Into  tjrcat- 
noss ;  and  thoUL'h  genius  of  any  quality  short  of  in- 
spiration must  have  cultivation  before  it  has  com- 
pleteness, ac(juisition  alone  never  yet  made  a  man 
famous.  Nor  do  great  men  make  j)rimary  use  of  edu- 
cation in  building  their  ladder  to  fame. 

(Jlauce  over  the  names  of  those  most  eminent  in 
England  during  the  last  three  centuries,  and  we  find 
rcmarkablv  few  of  them  who  went  through  a  rcLiular 
course  t/f  instruction  at  a  [)ul)lic  school.  Thi'  Etl'm- 
hiiri/h  Jicrlciv  gives  the  names  of twxiity  poets,  a  dozen 
plillosophers,  and  a  score  or  so  of  the  first  writci's  in 
morals  and  metaphysics  who  were  not  educated  at 
what  that  journal  calls  a  })ul)lic  school. 

Xow  mental  cultivation  is  a  good  thing,  a  grand 
thing,  but  it  is  not  everything.  It  is  what  our  mother 
nature  does  for  us,  as  well  as  what  we  do  for  our- 
selves that  mak(>s  us  what  we  are.  All  great  men 
j'.re  men  of  natural  abilities.  If  they  are  cultivated 
^.o  much  the  better.  It  is  only  cultivated  genius  that 
reaches  the  highest  realms  of  art;  but  if  the  nrenius 
b  '  not  theri\  no  amount  of  cultivation  Avill  produce  it. 
You  may  dig  and  dung  your  garden  through  twelve 
successive  springs,  if  there  are  no  seeds  in  the  ground 
t!i(>re  will  be  no  ilowers.  You  may  rub,  and  blanket, 
;iiid  train  your  horse  until  doomsday.  If  then;  be  no 
speed  in  him  he  wins  no  race.  Cultivation,  in  the 
;il)sence  of  natural  abilities,  is  like  undertaking  to 
kindle  the  edixe  of  ocean  Into  a  llame ;  there  is  no 
l)laze  from  it. 

Genius  itself  cannot  tell  what  it  does  not  know\ 
( )ne  nmst  learn  before  one  can  histruct;  nor  is  it  wise 
to  attempt  to  define  a  thing  without  knowing  what  it 
is.  Better  that  the  orations  of  Dcnujsthenes  sliould 
smell  of  th(^  lamp,  as  Pytheas,  from  the  manifest 
libor  bestowed  u)tonthem  coniplained,  than  that  they 
should  fall  unheetled    to  the  -ground.      Historical  and 


i 


i  nl 


1  iH 


078 


IJODY  AND  xMIND. 


scientific  facts  do  not  sprin;^  from  inspiration.  Yet 
there  is  sucli  a  tliln<>;  as  stitling  genius  by  an  over- 
weiglit  of  learning.  The  Paradise  hid  begun  by 
^riiton  in  his  fifty -cightli  year  is  an  example.  The 
subject  is  wholly  ideal,  and  if  undertiiken  in  the  au- 
thor's younger  days,  before  his  mind  was  buried  be- 
neath a  mountain  of  classical  machinery  uhich  marred 
his  su])ernatural  concej)tlons,  would  have  been  as 
matchless  as  any  of  Shakespeare's  ])roductions. 

Nevei-theless,  let  all  men  beware  of  genius.  We 
cannot  judge  fairly  of  genius  by  its  work.  As  well 
determine  the  slimy  bottom  of  a  })ool  by  the  silver 
skv  reflected  from  its  surface.  A  genius  Is  a  cross 
between  an  angel  and  an  ape.  Genuis  is  a  ciseasi' 
which  blossoms  like  the  measles  or  small-pox.  It  is 
an  intellectual  excrescence,  wart,  or  bunion.  A  hair 
divides  its  destinv ;  the  road  on  one  side  leading  to 
the  insan(>  asvlum,  that  on  the  other  to  innnortal  m- 
tellectualitv.  One  thinu"  is  certahi ;  ujenius  mav 
ripen  and  burst  without  aid,  but  the  result  de})cnds 
upon  labor.  Never  yet  a  genius  made  a  lasting  im- 
i)rcssion  upon  the  world  without  work.  All  great 
men  are  workers.  Wlio  ever  heard  of  a  painter, 
sculptor,  musician,  or  author,  who  was  not  burden- 
bearer  and  laboirr,  beside  which  occui)atioas  hod- 
carrying  and  sand-shovelling  are  pastimes? 

licncc.'  men  should  be  careful  how  they  affect  the 
eccentricities  of  genius,  lest,  failing,  they  should  show 
what  thev  are — fools.  StrikiiiLj  out  of  the  beaten 
})ath  in  dress,  belief,  or  behavior,  one  may  reach  a 
[>ictures(]ue  eminence  or  fall  into  a  quagmire.  As  a 
rule  we  may  be  pretty  sure  that  those  who  find  them- 
selves forced  bv  internal  enyinerv  to  cast  off  tradi- 
tional  circumlocution,  and  strike  at  once  at  the  root. 
of  tlungs,  are  not  the  men  to  study  long  over  the  latest 
tie  of  the  cravat,  or  shape  of  the  boot-toe.  And  so 
eccentricity  of  dress  and  behavior  always  attend  men 
of  genius.  But  that  which  in  the  brainless  dandy 
is  affectation,  in  the  man  of  genius  is  individuality, 


GEXIU.S. 


079 


as  much  a  jiart  of  the  man  as  folly  is  of  the  fool. 
A  ncnius  is  ouc  who  Is  singular  in  oroat  things;  and 
this  is  scarce! V  i)ossible  without  bein*;  slnuular  in 
little  tilings. 

Pure  n cuius  displays  its  presence  the  moment 
opi)ortunity  otteis,  whether  at  the  a^e  of  six  or 
sixty  years.  Nothin_t»"  ln)Wi;ver  denotes  more  ])laiidy 
^Xvu'iUH  iiK  1 1  (JVC  so  i,  thaw  its  manif('statiou  in  childhood 
and  youth.  Sir  Walter  Scott's  little  favorite  Mar- 
jorie  Flemino'  displayed  a  most  peppery  power  with 
tonj^uc;  and  pen  at  the  aijje  of  six.  Bryant  wrote 
T/KDialojisix  at  eighteen,  an<l  ))ul)lislu'd  a  I/istor)/  of  fhc 
I'liital  NaU'H  at  eij^hty,  thus  disi)uting  the  adage  vlto 
ntatnnni),  cito  juitridiim. 

"  Southey,"  said  (.\)leridge,  "]iossessed,  hut  wns  not 
possessed  hy  his  genius."  So  it  was  witli  ]Janiel 
Wehsti-r.  The  man  was  more  than  tlie  talents;  the 
inspired  forces  were  held  in  suhjection  hy  a  trained 
•ndomitahle  will.  All  his  vast  brain  resources  were 
under  connnaml  of  a  disciplined  mind,  and  (piickly  re- 
sponded to  its  call.  Here  is  an  instance,'  where  a  com- 
manding frame  comes  into  play;  ])ut  Webster's  mind 
into  ])e  (^uincey's  body,  and  the  man  never  would  be 
heard  from. 

In  Campbell  and  Goldsmith  wcic  mingletl,  in  an 
extraordinary  degree,  the  sublime  and  the  ridiculous. 
1\)  great  fastidiousness,  Cam])l)ell  added  intense  self- 
consciousness  which  well-nigh  destroyed  his  ])oetic 
talents.  Goldsmith,  after  Inning  failed  in  divinity, 
law,  and  metlicine,  aftt'r  having  re})eatedly  gaml)le(l 
away  his  last  farthing,  and  after  having  tram|>ed  the 
continent  as  an  itinerant  flute-})layer,  finally  took  to 
literature,  at  which,  for  the  remainder  of  his  days,  he 
iked  out  a  ])recarious  existence,  his  poverty  nauseated 
now  and  then  by  a  gorgeous  suit  of  silk  or  satin. 
Sti'ange  that  the  same  man  can  be  at  once  so  wise  and 
so  foolish! 

Of  wliat  sort  of  stuff  was  made  the  brain  of 
Theodore  Hook  ?     As  a  diner-out,  rather  than  as  a 


h 


^'\ 


i>L. 

id  ''ilHI 
I" 


•Mi 


il 
1-1  ■ 

k  ■ 


((SO 


1501  )Y  AND  MINI). 


writer,  IiIh  tjjonlus  slione  brlylitost.  As  inus'icluii  and 
imiirovisjitori'  in  ('xttin[)()niiu'<»UH  nu'loclnunas,  aiul  iu 
wlilcli,  not  unfre(]uently,  isvcry  stanza  contained  an 
rpiL^iani,  lio  iH'vcr  was  tM|uallcd.  Witli  t'X<[uislt(.;  hu- 
mor and  inoxhaustihlo  prodi«^mrity  ho  sliowcrcd  ]mns. 
h<)n-iiU)U,  and  anocdotus  on  every  side.  Validy  liave 
otlu>rs  tried  to  imitate  lihn;  tlie  counterfeit  of  genius 
is  easily  detected. 

liy  llvinjji;  simply  and  writinjjj  only  wh(>n  in  the 
mood,  Whittier  attained  a  rii»e  and  lu'aceful  old  au;e. 
^[.  Thiers  was  worried  to  death;  he  did  an  Imniensi' 
amount  of  work,  hut  it  was  not  lahor  hut  nervous 
anxiety  that  killed  him.  He  hated  noisy  men  and 
noisy  nature. 

^[ortimer  Collins  worked  until  two  o'clock  at  nii^lit 
and  ro;:;G  at  ei«>ht.  The  forenoon  he  took  for  reerea- 
tion.  ]\[ost  men  of  u,(^nius  attribute  success  in  any 
direction  to  severe  api)licati(»n  rather  than  to  any 
special  tak>nt.  Says  ])octor  Johnson,  "Excellence  in 
any  department  can  now  he  attained  by  the  kihor  ot' 
a  lifetime,  hut  it  is  not  to  he  purchased  at  a  lesser 
price."  "Nothinti^  is  impossible  to  a  man  who  can 
and  will,"  savs  ^lirabeau.  "This  is  the  onlv  law  <>t 
success."  "The  dilference  between  one  man  and  an- 
otlur  is  nf)t  so  nmch  in  talent  as  in  enerLjy,"  writes 
])octor  Ai'nold :  and  Revnolds  remarks,  "Nothin«>;  is 
dt'nied  well-dh-ected  labor,  and  nothing  is  attained 
without  it."  Turner  Avhen  asked,  "What  is  the  secret 
of  your  success  ?"  replied,  "I  have  no  secret  but  hard 
work."  Of  tlie  great  army  wlu)  i)lan,  comparatively 
few  accomplish  anything;  in  the  brain  even  of  tlie 
hardest  worker  arc  conceived  many  more  volumes  than 
are  ever  brought  forth.  Sir  AVilliam  Hamilton  had  a 
dozen  imwritten  volumes  in  his  mind  when  he  died  ; 
in  fact  it  would  be  more  dithcult  to  find  one  writei' 
who  had  not  died  with  unfinislied  projects,  than 
one  hundred  who  had.  As  Charles  Lamb  said  of 
Coleridge,  that  he  died  leaving  "forty  thousaml 
treatises    on    mcta})hyplcs    and    divinit}',    not    one    <  !' 


HABITS  OF  AUTHORS. 


681 


tliciu  coiniJetc."  Uiiwrittoii  books  cut  no  figure  in 
liUnituro. 

Far  above  the  creature  is  tlie  creator.  Who  wou'kI 
not  ratlier  be  Sliakcspeare  than  the  llvintx  eniboui- 
nicnt  of  any  even  of  his  t^ranilest  or  most  euvial)le 
heroes  or  lu'Voines? 

.[olm  Stuart  jNlill's  liabit  was  to  write  every  book 
(»ver  at  least  twice.  At  tlie  first  writiuiui;  was  infused 
the  fresh  viiujor  <»f  conce|»tion;  the  second,  wliicii 
secured  greater  stri'n<j;tli  and  ]>recislon,  incorjxnated 
tlie  better  ]iart  of  the  first  writing  witli  wJiatever 
occurred  to  tlie  mind  subsecjueiitly. 

])ickens  wrote  onlv  four  lK)urs,  nnmelv,  from  tin 
till  two.  His  sentences  were  often  verv  lal)ored,  be- 
in;4  in  this  res}»ect  in  marked  contrast  to  the  ease  and 
ia|>idity  with  which  Sir  Walter  Scott  wrote.  The 
banker-poft,  Rogers,  in  whom  talent  and  wealtli  wen; 
found  united  to  laborious  ajiplication  in  a  rare  degree, 
sju'iit  seventeen  years  writing  the  J'lr(is'i(r(s  of  Mcmori/. 

James  Hogg,  the  Ettrick  shepherd,  wrote  while 
sitting  on  the  hills  tending  liis  slice)).  His  knees 
were  his  desk,  and  his  ink-bottle  he  carried  suspended 
from  his  buttonhole.  With  him  writing  was  no  small 
])hysical  feat.  Taking  off  his  coat  and  rolling  up  his 
sleeves,  he  went  at  it  as  if  about  to  knock  down  men 
instead  of  ideas.  IrEazlitt  wrote  under  immediate  in- 
s[)iration,  without  study  of  the  subject  or  fore-thought. 
As  his  pen  was  ins[)ired  he  could  write  when  and  as 
much  as  he  chose.  J  le  wrote  with  incredible  ra[)idity, 
(iften  e(juivalent  to  fifteen  octavo  ])rinted  ])ages  at  a 
sitting  of  three  or  four  hours  ;  and  he  seldom  made 
any  alteration.  Indeed,  he  could  scarcely  bring  hiin- 
s(df  to  read  over  what  he  had  written,  and  he  never 
derived  any  pleasure  from  reading  anything  of  his 
own  in  print.  Unlike  Pygmalion,  he  never  was  guilty 
of  falling  in  lo^■e  with  an  object   of  his  own   creating. 

For  prodigious  work  commend  me  the  (jerinan. 
Besides  utilizing  the  brains  of  others  he  makes  the 
most  of  his  own,  holding  rigidly  to  early  rising,  siin- 


'   $1 


,"if 


BODY  AND  MIND. 


j)l(^  diet,  and  rcLfular  liourn.  Eatiiiuj  and  drinkni<4'  ho 
jM»st])()nc'S  ill  a  «;rt'at  measure  until  after  liis  davs  work 
is  done,  and  lunce  anionj;'  its  otiier  Itunlens,  the  l)rain 
does  not  liave  tiie  horrors  of  indi<;(!stion  laid  ui><»n  it. 
'^riie  afternoon  hv  s|)ends  with  his  family  and  friends. 
"  What  a  comnjent  on  our  si)asm()die  autliorsliip  I"  ex- 
claims Hurst.  '*  Many  an  American  when  lie  gets 
throiiuh  his  work  is  actuallv  half  dead  from  the  ah- 
Kciici^  of  all  social  relaxation.  He  hecame  shy  of  so- 
ciety, and  considered  every  hour  anioiiji;  his  fiiends  as 
so  much  lost  time.  The  result  was  that  he  losttlesh, 
spirits,  and  tlu!  indisjuiisahle  pluck  for  new  under- 
takinii;s.  The  German,  on  the  other  liand,  knows 
tlu!  liiji,h  science  of  com[)ressiniij  as  much  work  as  )>os- 
sihk;  into  his  morninL''s,  and  as  much  play  as  possihle 
into  liis  afternoons  and  eveninus." 


For  years  it  was  my  custom  to  rise  at  seven,  break- 
fast at  half  i»ast  seven,  and  write  from  eij^ht  until  one, 
when  I  lunched  or  dined.  The  afternoon  was  devoted 
to  rcK'reation  and  exercise.  Usually  I  would  jj;et  in 
an  hour's  writin*;'  before  a  six  o'clock  tea  or  dinner,  as 
the  case  mi^ht  be,  and  four  hours  afterwards,  making 
ten  hours  in  all  for  the  day  ;  but  interruptions  were 
so  constant  and  fre(|ueiit,  tliat  inclmling  tlie  many 
lonu:  seasons  durinn*  which  I  hermited  mvself  in  the 
eountrv,  where  I  often  devoted  twelve  aiul  fourtec  ii 
hours  a  day  to  writinjj,-,  I  do  not  think  I  averaged  mori- 
than  eijjfht  hour's  a  day,  takiiii^  twenty  years  together. 

Wlien  I  first  began  to  write,  composing  was  a  very 
labored  operation.  !My  whol(>  miLi*  was  al)sorl)ed  in 
liow,  rather  than  what.  But  gradually  I  came  to 
tliink  less  of  myself  and  the  ii{.ui?ier  of  expression,  and 
more  of  what  I  was  saying.  Comparatively  little  of 
my  woi'k  was  of  a  character  which  admitt(>d  of  fast 
writing.  When  full  of  my  subject  I  could  writi' 
rapidly,  that  is  to  say  from  twenty  to  thirty  manu- 
s(  ript  pages  in  a  day  ;  or  counting  by  hours  and  meas- 
uring by  another's  capabilities,  about  one  quarter  as 


WAYS  OF  lIANlJlTXt;  ^^ATI:I;IAT,. 


{•.sn 


iinich  as  irazlltt,  tlmu^^li  tlin*'  tiuKs  altovo  tlu^  aver- 
ajjo.  IiicludiiiLT  ''('ttiM"^  out  and  ari'aii'Mii'>'  mv  ma- 
tcrial,  and  stialy'iML?  my  suljtrct,  I  could  imt  avi'i-ayf 
duriii'^  tlio  year  more  tliau  ci-jlit  l»adl\'  scnttclit  d 
i'.iauuscri])t  ])a/j('.s  a  tlay,  or  at  tluvratcot' oiio  an  liour. 
In  jtmparln^;  for  me  tlio  rou^li  matcilal  from  tlio 
Mutes,  mv  assi.^taiits  would  not  avera'jo  over  four 
i:iaMUS('n[)t  i)a;_«'eH  a  day. 

"  En  t'erivant  ma  penst'es,  elles  lu'ediappt;  f[uelqne- 
fois,"  says  Pascal.  Sometimes  a  ilood  ef  tli<uiL;lit 
would  como  rusliinj^in  uiioii  ine,  like  a  torrent  cuer- 
Avlielmiii^'  its  l)anks,  and  I  would  lose  tliu  ni'ea((  r 
])art  of  it;  at  other  times  so  confused  and  slothful 
would  1)0  my  hrain,  that  in  turnin.^  over  the  ',avcs  of 
I, IV  dictionary  I  would  for<j-et  the  word  I  was  lookni'-- 
fir.  Tills  was  more  })articularly  the  case  <lurlML;'  ihe. 
tarlier  part  of  my  llti'ra'y  career;  later  my  mind  he- 
c;;me  more  tractable,  and  I  never  waited  for  either 
ideas  or  words. 

There  are  many  methods  of  gatherinc^  and  arrant;- 
iiiLj  information  juid  puttinj;'  it  into  nadahle  shajie.  Tiio 
novelist  has  one  way,  the  s})t'cialist  another,  tlie  l:is- 
torian  a  third,  necessarily  different,  each  yaryin^^  in- 
dividually according"  to  cast  of  mind  and  hahit.  As  a 
rule  the  best  plan  is  to  imbue  the  mind  so  thoroughly 
^\■ith  the  subject  to  be  treated  as  U)  be  able  lirst  t<> 
arran;4e  the  matter  properly  in  the  mind,  and  the  ii 
commit  it  to  paper. 

Another  way,  not  perhaps  the  best  way,  is'to  write 
reading,  and  read  writin«jf;  that  is,  it  is  ncjt  tlu.'  best 
\v;iy,  proyided  one  has  the  memory  and  mental  <h;;- 
( i[)linc  to  p^ather,  arrauL^e,  and  retain  the  necessary 
f  ;cts  and  produce  them  as  reijuli'ed.  In  certain  hinds 
cf  writinijf,  I  first  draw  from  my  own  brain  until  its 
1'.  sources  are  exhausted;  then  taking-  up  one  author 
after  another,  I  learn  what  otlu-rs  have  tliou^ht  and 
said  upon  the  subject.  In  the  intercourse  of  my  mind 
with  other  minds,  new  thoughts  are  eng(^ndered, 
which  arc   likewise  committed  to  paper,  after  which 


i.ii 
I'l'.'ii 


,*1;'B 


I'.-i 


■  i 


!".  i 


684 


BODY  AND  MIXD. 


all  is,  or  slioul(ll)0,  rc-aiTan;j;'C(l  and  rc-wiittcn.  Pliny 
and  others  liavc  said  that  one  sliouhl  read  nuicli 
hut  not  many  bo(jks.  This  was  well  enough  as  a  doc- 
trine l)oforc  history  and  science  had  extended  the 
ran'jfe  of  knowledtj^e  beyond  the  limits  of  a  few  books. 
Now,  to  be  well  read,  one  must  read  many  books  ; 
buyinuf  a  cyclo[)odia  will  not  answer  the  purpose. 
Hamilton  says,  "An  intellectual  man  who  is  forty 
years  old,  is  as  much  at  school  as  an  Etonian  of  four- 
teen." 

Tlie  first  presentiment  of  a  subject,  the  first  flusli 
of  an  idea,  is  tlie  one  a  writer  sli(»uld  never  fail  to 
seize.  Like  the  flash  and  report  of  tlie  signal  gun  t;> 
the  belated  hunter,  lost  after  ni^;! it- fall  in  the  dark 
forest,  tlie  way  for  the  moment  seems  clear,  but  if  not 
Instantly  and  earnestly  followed  it  is  soon  lost.  Says 
(loethe  in  Faust:  '' Wenn  ihr'o  niclit  flililt,  ihr 
werdet's  nlcht  erjagen." 

In  diet  and  drink  every  one  should  be  governed  by 
his  own  experiencb.  To  universal  rules  of  liealth  J 
pay  little  attention.  Nature  has  given  me  a  J'ljy.^i- 
cian  in  every  organ  of  my  body,  which,  If  the  ajipe- 
tlte  bo  natural,  prescribes  only  what  is  best,  and  cries 
loudly  against  unwelcome  guests.  If  I  pay  heed  to 
these  friendly  admonitions  I  am  well;  if  carried  away 
by  excitement,  pleasure,  or  morbid  a]>petite,  I  conmiir 
excesses,  cither  by  over-doing  or  under-doing  I  mu  t 
pay  t]ie  penalty. 

In  the  free  and  natural  flow  of  ideas  in  writiii.:, 
the  position  nmst  be  neither  too  easy  nor  too  con- 
strained; as  the  former  tends  to  inanity,  while  tlie 
hitter  distracts  the  mind  from  the  sulyect  in  hand  ami 
fixes  it  U[)on  muscuhir  discontent.  A  jierson  c;i:i 
write  better  in  one  cha'ir  than  another,  in  one  room 
tliau  another,  in  one  locality  than  another.  In  chang- 
ing one's  locality  there  Is  always  some  loss  t)f  tinii', 
Tliouijht  is  sometimes  a  litth;  fri'akv.  Chan'>'e  ^r 
room,  a  rearrangement  of  books  and  papiers  ofti  ;i 
breaks  the  current  of  thought,  and  severs  the  subtil' 


INTITJlUrXIO^TS. 


GGo 


connection  l)etM'(-eii  mind  and  its  surronndin<:>'S.  S(\":t- 
inix  nivsolf  Jit  my  tal)lu  in  the  morning;  and  pooin;^  all 
VAX  })ripcrs  as  they  were  left,  I  take  up  the  tliivr.d 
wiiorc  I  drojipod  it  the  ni;j;ht  l)ofore. 

InttTruptiv>ns  are  fatal  to  g(»t»d  work.  Even  thouLijli 
o:ie  has  tlie  faculty  of  takinj^  up  the  thread  of  tliou!.']it 
Avlicro  it  was  laid  down,  there  Is  still  a  ;j;r(>at  dili'er- 
cnce  in  the  results  of  a  whole  day  and  of  a  broken 
day. 

AVhilc  at  the  library  my  time  was  tj^reatly  broken  by 
callers.  Frequently  I  have  bc^'un  on  ]\Ionday  n\orn- 
hi'j;  to  write  and  bv  the  time  I  was  fairlv  seated  and 

*'  ''11 

mv  thou'ihts  arran!>('d,  I  would  be  comiK'Hcd  to  l)rrak 
off.  After  an  interval  of  a  ludf  hour,  pi'rhaps,  I 
mij;ht  be  permitted  to  try  it  at;"ain,  and  with  the  same 
r;  svdts.  So  passed  ISTonday,  Tu<>sday,  lialf  the  we(  k, 
(1'  the  whole  of  it,  and  n«»t  five  paj^es  written.  Oft-u 
1:1  a  fit  of  desperation  I  have  seized  a  handful  of  worlc 
;;:id  rushed  into  the  country,  where  I  could  count  wi:.h 
:  ;>:iie  de-'ree  of  certaintv  upon  mv  time.  Trulv,  sa\s 
I'lorence  Nightingale"!  Jiavc  never  known  persons 
who  exjiosed  tlu>nu'.(  Ivc'S  for  years  to  constant  inter- 
ruptions who  did  not  nmddle  away  their  intellects  by 
it  at  last." 

In  January,  1870,  I  left  San  Francisco  in  one  of 
these  moods  suddenly, and  whik^  under  a  st-nse  of  sonie- 
tliing  akin  to  dispalr.  It  s<>enied  as  though  my  work 
would  stretch  out  to  all  eternit)-.  Wliilo  hi  the  city, 
week  after  week  passed  by  with  tiothing  accomplished, 
and  I  determined  to  cut  loose  from  these  interru[»tions 
at  whatever  cost.  So,  bundling  tlu;  jvijters  bi'foi'e  me, 
eliiefly  memoranda  f)r  genei'al  cbai>ters,  I  steppid 
aboard  the  boat  and  that  night  slept  at  my  fatln  I's. 
The  next  day  I  sent  down  for  a  l)ox  of  Popiihir  Tri- 
ftnmJs  and  other  material,  and  during  the  m^xt  six 
wi'eks  of  a  '  .pie  life,  without  interru})tions,  a<'coni- 
jtlished  more  in  a  literary  way  than  during  any  oiht  i- 
six  weeks  of  my  life.  I  worked  from  t(>n  to  tw  1 1\ c 
] lours,  and  averaged  twenty  jiages  of  maimscrlpt  a 


Ik 


I  i 


6S6 


T?ODY  AND  MIND. 


u 

i 


■ii 


Mi 


clay,  rodo  two  hours,  except  rainy  days  and  Sundays: 
ate  heartily,  drank  from  lialf  a  bottle  to  a  bottle  of 
claret  or  sherry  before  retiring,  and  smoked  four  or 
five  cigars  daily.  This,  however,  was  more  of  a  strain 
tlian  my  S3'stcm  could  bear  for  any  length  of  time.  I 
did  not  break  down  under  it;  I  only  shifted  my  posi- 
tion. The  mind  fatigued  with  one  class  of  Avork  ofttn 
finds  almost  as  nmch  rest  in  change  as  in  rep(»se;  just 
as  the  laborer  by  chango  of  occupation  brings  into 
l)lay  a  new  set  of  nmscles,  giving  rest  to  the  otliers. 

Thc!  glare  from  white  papi'r  sivmed  at  times  move 
trying  to  my  eyes  than  even  constant  daily  and  niglitly 
use  of  tliem  when  writing  on  a  chirk  surface.  It  wa.- 
not  until  after  several  years  of  suffering  that  a  sinipli 
remedy  occurred  to  me.  ^Fy  eyes  had  always  been 
good.  I  believed  them  capable  of  any  enduraiKr, 
and  consequently  ]>nid  little  attention  to  tliem  until 
they  began  to  fail  me.  In  smoked  glass  I  found  some  re- 
lief But  the  best  tiling  by  farwastlie  useof  dark  paper. 

Tlierc  were  two  possil)ilities  Avhich  would  foici' 
themselves  upon  my  mind  at  intenals:  One  was  tire, 
and  tlic  other  death  before  the  completion  of  my 
Work.  So  unmannerly  are  these  ruthless  destroyers 
tliat  I  could  hope  for  no  consideration  from  either  ot 
them  on  the  ground  of  necessity.  Imperious  death 
seiMued  indc^ecl  to  regard  my  labors  grudgingly;  not 
less  tlian  eleven  of  mv  library  men  died  durimj;  tlio 
progress  of  my  work;  I  could  only  solace  myself  by 
workhiii  tlie  har<ler.  I  often  thoui>ht  of  Cuvi<  r. 
whose  paralysis  struck  him  while  actively  engaged  in 
thc  arranging  (.T  a  large  accunnilation  oi'  seientilic 
matei'ial.  Said  he  to  ISI.  Pascpiier,  "I  had  girat 
things  still  to  do;  all  was  ready  in  my  head.  Afti  i' 
thirty  years  of  labor  and  researcli,  there  remaiiwd 
but  to  write,  and  now  the  hands  foil,  and  carry  with 
them  the  head."  Oh!  thou  great  sh an u^  of  natmv: 
will  no  Hercules  ever  rise  and  strangle  tliec?  "On 
n'a  point  pour  la  inert  de  dispense  de  Rome,"  sighs 
Molibro. 


MELA^C1I0LY. 


C87 


At  certain  periods  of  my  life  my  breast  has  been 
torn  by  conHicting  pain  and  ])assion  preying  like  a 
vulture  on  the  undecavinL!;  vitals  of  a  Tit\  os.  At 
such  times  when  I  would  writ(.'  of  iirief  I  had  only  to 
dip  my  pen  in  my  own  heart,  and  bitterness  would 
iiow  from  it.  Yet  all  this  siJiunii'  from  tlie  coloring' 
which  temperament  threw  on  outward  thhigs.  As 
Wordsworth  said  of  Turner's  picture  of  Jessica  on 
exhibition  in  Somerset  house,  so  I  would  sav  of  cir- 
tain  creations  of  my  fancy.  "It  looks  to  me  as  if  the 
l)ainter  had  mdulged  in  raw  Uver  until  he  was  very 
unwell." 

'•B«)dily  affliction,"  says  Bain,  "is  often  the  cause  of 
.i  ♦  ^,al  chanije  in  the  moral  nature."  So  mii>ht  we 
-iis  of  mental  affliction,  or  of  anv  kind  of  misfortune 
oi-  woe.  Under  mental  torment  not  less  than  whin 
in  fleshy  pains,  the  de\  il  wliis})ers  us,  likii  the  com- 
forters of  Joh,  to  curse  (Jod  and  die.  AnKmg  tl.e 
most  miserable  of  mei>  that  ever  lived  was  William 
Hazlitt;  ami  that  not  1)ecause  of  bodily  infirmities, 
fi'om  which  he  was  not  for  a  moment  free,  but  chieHy 
because  thosi'  strong  affections  which  cfnistanily  burmd 
within  him  were  left  unfed  bv  fittinijc  obiects,  an('  so 
consumed  the  cankered  and  corroded  frame  that  bound 
them.  As  Sauit  Beuve  says:  "One  does  not  a])pre- 
( iat(  the  beautiful  to  such  a  degree  of  intensity  and 
delicacy.  ssitlMUit  behig  terribly  shocked  at  the  bad 
and  vht   ugh.' 

T  do  jiot  Set  up  for  a  man  of  sorrows.  I  am  not 
given  to  st  in)e»,-;  and  moroseness.  I  have  often 
tlirough  weariness  fallen,  into  iliscouragenient;  but 
such  blueness  was  only  momeiitaiy.  Whenever  I 
returned  to  my  work  after  nee  I'ssary  ri'st  it  was 
always  with  cheerful  hope.  Best  n-moves  niountahis. 
1  would  not  have  about  me  hi  my  family,  my  library, 
<  r  my  bushiess  a  sighing,  despondent,  croaking  in- 
dividu..  Until  I  began  literary  life  I  never  thought 
ef  si;.-:  ^hings  as  nervousness,  nxMital  strain,  or 
scarcely  •..!  gviieral   health.     Most  of  all  I  dcspisct' 


■(■;  :£l 


'm 


mm- 


I    ■■ 


y  i^ 


CSS 


BODY  AND  MIXD. 


tlie  tliouo-ht  of  layinix  infelicities  of  temper  at  tlio 
door  of  mental  labor.  I  regarded  it  cowardly  and 
untrue.  But  after  a  time  I  was  forced  to  clianoo 
these;  opinions. 

Sometimes  the  fire  of  disease  so  kindles  the  brain 
as  to  cause  it  to  throw  off  sparkling  thoughts,  just  as 
I  have  heard  vocalizers  say  that  they  could  sing  best 
with  a  cold  oi  sore  throat,  and  speakers  that  they  were 
never  so  fluent  as  when  under  the  influence  of  fever 
— instance  Douglass  Jerrold  whose  wit  was  nevei 
keener,  or  his  thoughts  more  poetical  than  when  his 
body  lay  stretrh'^'!  hi  suflering.  For  fifteen  years 
Edward  Mayhev  s  unable  to  use  his  limbs,  and 
yet  with  lirains  aloi;  did  he  so  successfully  fight  life's 
battle  as  to  leave  an  undying  name. 

Often  one  is  heard  to  say  that  inspiration  conies 
not  at  the  bidding,  that  Pegasus  will  not  always  re 
spond  to  the  whip;  that  one's  best  is  bad  enough,  and 
that  the  tired  worker  sliould  stop;  that  literary  lali(  i 
is  difl'erent  from  mechanical  labor,  and  tlir.t  the  head 
sliould  be  made  to  work  only  when  it  feels  inclined. 
There  is  truth  in  this  doctrine,  but  there  is  llkewisr 
error.  At  every  turn  in  my  literary  labors  I  found 
method  essential;  not  alone  to  utilize  the  labor  <t 
others,  but  to  accom]»lish  results  satisfactory  in  my 
own  producing.  Unable  to  work  entirely  by  the 
clock  like  Southey,  who  had  not  only  his  hours  for 
writing  but  his  hour  in  each  day  for  the  several  kinds 
of  literary  occupation  resulting  hi  his  hundred  and 
more  volumes,  it  would  not  answer  for  me  to  trust 
like  Coleridge  to  hispiration,  lest  it  should  not  conn' 
Avhen  needed,  nor  to  fly  from  one  piece  of  work  to 
another,  like  Agassiz,  as  fancy  dictated. 

Yet  wliile  method  is  above  all  thhigs  necessary  in 
anv  ijreat  undertakinu',  there  is  such  a  tliiiijj  in  literal  v 
eflbrt  as  excess  of  system,  which  tends  to  painful 
monotony,  particularly  in  the  execution  of  a  plan. 

It  is  all  very  well  to  lay  down  rules,  to  write  witli 
watch  and  mirror  before  one's  face,  like  Dickens,  leady 


RULES  AND  REGULATIONS. 


to  stop  wlicncver  the  hour  is  up,  or  the  veins  bcirin  to 
swell  —that  is  to  say  for  those  who  can  kee})  such 
rules.  It  is  by  no  means  difficult  for  nie  to  tell  my- 
self the  best  things  to  do;  it  is  easv^  to  tell  the  loco- 
motive  it  had  better  stop  instantly  when  a  wheel 
cracks. 

Tliero  is  no  end  to  the  rules  and  resjulations  I  have 
made  to  govern  my  writing.  I  believe  in  them,  i^'et 
as  it  is  impossible  for  man  to  make  laws  more  power- 
ful than  liimself,  I  do  not  hesitate  to  break  my  rules 
whenever  occasion  seems  to  demand  it.  Oft^n  I 
have  said  to  myself,  I  wi'^  continue  while  I  am  in  tlie 
spirit,  I  will  write  while  i  cuu,  and  rest  when  I  can- 
not write.  A  writer  with  a  stronj:^  constitution  can 
indulge  in  those  insane  excesses  which  would  kill  a 
weaker  maiL 

Se'if-knowlcdge  is  the  sum  of  all  knowledge.  IVIan 
is  to  man  the  central  mystery,  the  unravelling  of 
which  would  give  him  tlie  key  to  the  universe.  Were 
it  ])ossible  to  })h<>tograph  a  human  soul,  to  display  in 
visible  ] )( )rtraiture  the  ethereal  light  and  shade  whicli 
clieer  and  darken  a  human  life,  to  see  for  one  brief 
moment  the  transfixed  workings  of  that  subtle  cliem- 
istry  which  now  Impelled  by  passion,  and  now  re- 
strained by  prejudice  regulates  the  thoughts  and 
doings  of  the  man,  there  would  be  no  further  need 
(if  less<ms  from  our  great  teacher, — -nature. 

It  has  seemed  to  me  at  times  as  if  I  was  filled  wUli 
tlie  poetic  instinct  but  without  poetic  expression;  that 
my  poor  inspiration  was  born  dund).  Often  after  tlie 
f'iose  of  business,  before  I  had  ever  thouo-ht  of  writln<j; 
1  looks,  have  I  walked  out  alone,  up  one  street  and 
<lown  another,  for  hours  and  far  into  the  night,  st;ir- 
gazing,  thinking,  connnuning,  the  dim  and  pal[»ltating 
light  singing  me  a  soul-song,  and  i)laying  with  tlu; 
<lim  and  palpitating  light  which  so  feebly  filled  my 
liraln. 

I  have  no  such  flooding  fantasv  now  as  then.     Per- 

LIT.  IND.     44. 


''/•I 

! 

Hi 

i  I 

1, 


I'     ^1 


t{'  ^1 


:',''. 


BODY  AND  MIND. 


b. 


haps  the  brain  wearies  of  its  fruitless  scintillations  as 
one  grows  older,  and  the  ideal  ether  of  youth  is  cleared 
of  many  crude  imaginings,  or  else  the  mind  has  found 
some  relief  in  words.  These  were  intense  lonyjinos 
for  I  know  not  what;  unintelligible  somethhigs,  it 
appeared  to  me,  floating  on  the  confines  of  thought, 
dimly  discernible  to  a  vivid  imagination,  but  imper- 
ceptible to  sober  meditation  ;  murnmrings  they  some- 
times appeared  as  they  came  floating  over  the  sea  of 
conscience  from  the  far  distant  horizon;  heavenly 
heart-burnings,  or  the  soul-rumblings  of  an  eternal 
unrest,  the  unconscious  respiration  of  the  immortal  in 
us — myriads  of  formless  perceptions  thus  come  strug- 
gling to  find  expression,  like  the  disembodied  soul 
spiritualists  tell  us  of,  that  hover  near  their  friends 
endeavoring  to  hold  communion  with  them. 

Then  again  it  would  seem  as  if  all  the  powers  of 
my  brain  were  held  in  solution,  my  thoughts  all  airy 
nothings  without  sequence  or  continuit}^  unintelligi- 
ble communion  with  unintelligible  nature,  and  with- 
out the  alchemist  at  hand  which  should  change  to 
useful  metal  or  compact  crystal  this  incoherent 
mixture. 

Day-dreaming,  hovrever,  was  never  profitable  to 
me;  nor,  so  fiir  as  I  could  judge,  were  these  star-liglit 
musings.  The  real  has  always  been  more  satisfying 
than  the  fanciful.  Yet  I  must  confess  I  sometiiiK  s 
found  these  longings  delicious,  significant  as  they  wciti 
of  the  warm  breathings  of  immortal  affections. 

Not  unfrequently  the  most  unaccountable  freaks 
of  indisposition  seize  the  steady  literary  worker. 
Even  the  iron  constitution  of  Mr  Oak  was  not  fr  '^ 
from  them,  and,  indeed  toward  the  end  he  almost 
broke  down.  On  one  occasion  while  I  was  at  White 
Sulphur  springs  he  wrote  me — it  was  the  3d  of  April. 
1877 — "I  feel  as  well  in  most  respects  as  I  ever  did, 
and  my  head  is  as  clear  as  a  bell,  but  I  cannot  slee}>~  - 
even  in  the  morning !  I  find  it  impossible  to  fix  my 
mind  on  any  definite  point  of  ray  work.     For  several 


SOCIETY  AND  SOLITUDE. 


691 


to 
;-llt 
II 1^ 


days  I  have  done  but  little  more  than  sit  at  my  table 
and  wonder  why,  feelinji^  so  well,  I  cannot  work.  I 
have  tried  writing  all  night,  but  I  cannot  got  sleepy ; 
have  walked  the  skin  off  my  feet,  and  have  ridden 
all  day  Sunday,  but  I  cannot  get  fatigued.  I  presume 
the  affair  will  come  to  a  focus,  however,  very  soon." 

Again  the  24th  of  May  he  writes — "Although  my 
general  liealth  is  much  improv(>d,  in  fact  as  good  as 
usual,  or  even  better,  yet  I  still  find  myself  unable  to 
work  otherwise  tlian  mechanically.  My  active  and 
real  interest  in  your  work  wliicli  for  many  years, 
through  sickness  and  health,  laziness  and  its  opjKtsite, 
despondency  and  g(H)d  spirits  has  never  weakened, 
and  which  has  I  hope  made  my  services  of  some  valu«^ 
to  you,  has  now  for  the  most  part  gone,  and  I  find 
that  mere  industry  will  not  take  its  place,  especially 
in  the  work  I  have  now  in  hand." 

Rest  was  all  that  he  needed,  however,  for  after  a 
few  weeks  in  the  country  he  was  himself  again.  In- 
somnia has  often  been  complained  of  by  the  men  in 
the  library. 

As  regards  societv  and  solitude  both  are  necessarv, 
but  here  as  elsewhere  extremes  should  be  avoided, 
(ioethe  says,  "in  solitude  talents  are  best  nurtured, 
in  the  stormy  billows  of  the  world  character  is  best 
found."  The  tendency  with  me  during  my  periods  of 
severest  labor,  as  with  every  hard-worker,  was  more 
and  more  towards  alonencss.  And  tlie  l(!ss  I  met  and 
conversed  with  men  the  more  distasteful  was  it  to 
me.  It  is  true  I  was  peculiarly  situated.  With  hun- 
dreds of  highly  intellectual  persons  on  every  sidi;  of  me, 
there  w  j  few  whose  tastes  or  halnts  led  them  in  tlie 
direction  of  my  labors.  Those  from  whom  I  could 
learn  the  most,  who  were  most  familiar  with  the 
direct  line  of  my  investigations,  I  sometimes  culti- 
vated; but  as  a  rule  I  found  books  more  profitable 
than  social  intercourse,  so  much  so  that  the  time  spent 
talkintr  with  men  and  women  seemed  to  me  lost.     It 


\yil 


I 


m 


BODY  AND  MIND. 


t< 


u 

I 


is  only  wlicn  a  man  is  alone  that  he  is  wholly  hun- 
self.  The  presence  of  others  throws  him  upon  his 
oruard  and  teaches  him  for  the  sake  of  their  good 
opinion  to  don  the  most  pleasing  mask  at  his  com- 
mand. "It  is  a  great  error,"  says  Hamerton,  "to 
encourage  in  young  people  the  h)ve  of  noble  culture 
in  the  hope  that  it  may  lead  them  more  into  wliat  is 
called  good  society.  High  culture  always  isolates, 
always  drives  men  out  of  their  class,  and  makes  it 
more  difficult  for  them  to  share  naturally  and  easily 
the  common  class-life  around  them.  Th(\y  sc^ek  the 
few  comi)aiiiojis  who  can  understand  them,  and  when 
these  are  n<^t  to  be  had  within  any  traversable  dis- 
tance, they  sit  and  work  alone." 

I  could  not  separate  myself  entirely  from  solituth; 
or  from  society  ;  yetneither  in  tliemselves  were  wholly 
satisfying.  Of  the  two  I  preferrcnl  the  former;  but 
when  I  was  without  a  ftimily  I  fv-lt  the  need  of  som(>- 
thing  to  which  I  might  anchor  the  time  that  exhaus- 
tion would  not  pcnnnit  me  to  fill  in  with  mental  appli- 
cation, and  which  was  occupied  with  recreations  that 
irave  a  sinister  bias  to  what  should  have  been  strength- 
restoring  pastime. 

Say  what  you  will  of  the  benefits  of  social  int(>r- 
course,  an  uitellectual  man  can  spend  but  little  tltue 
in  unintellectual  society  except  to  his  disadvantage. 
He  who  seeks  true  culture  shouhl  seek  the  society  of 
his  superiors,  or,  at  all  events,  of  those  whose  studies 
in  certain  directions  have  made  them  more  than  ordi- 
narily familiar  with  their  respective  specialties.  To  a 
sensil)le  person  current  society  is  a  lame  affair;  an 
intellectual  man  finds  it  specially  insipid.  It  is  a 
sham  of  every  depth  and  coloring.  Like  tiverything 
simulated  and  artificial  there  is  enough  of  sincerity  to 
hold  it  in  form,  and  no  more.  Men  and  women, 
prompted  by  vanity  or  ambition,  meet  and  call  it 
pleasure,  or  improvement. 

To  most  of  them  it  is  a  bore,  but  they  feel  it  a 
kind  of  obligation  in  return  for  their  title  of  respecta- 


OPEN  AIR  LIFE. 


6'X\ 


bility.  Evcsry  fnnn  of  conversation  approaching"  tlie 
inU'llectuiil  is  tal>oo(!(l,  even  sliould  learncil  and  intel- 
ligent pcoi)le  thus  chance  to  meet. 

England,  by  law,  makes  sleeping  in  the  open  air 
puuishaltlc  as  an  act  of  vagrancy.  California  lias  no 
HLU'h  law.  It  has  been  rather  the  fashion  here  to  sleep 
h,  la  belle  etoile  from  the  first.  The  al)<>rii>ines  never 
wasted  niin'h  time  building  houses;  tlie  padres  and 
the'ir  followers  thought  it  no  great  hardship)  to  sleej* 
under  the  trees;  the  miners  made  it  a  constant  prac- 
tice, and  durino-  the  last  decade  the  custom  has  orovvn 
up( )n  })leasuro-seekers. 

Every  sunnm^r  the  <lells  and  openings  of  the  Coast 
range  are  nuTry  with  the  voices  of  tlios(^  who,  tired 
of  luxury  and  of  tin;  monotony  of  aipiiet  life,  abandon 
their  comfortable  homes  for  the  fascinations  of  sa\ag- 
isin.  Some  have  their  regular  camping-ground  which 
they  occui>y  year  after  year,  either  owning  the  land 
or  having  sonu^  iirrangenu'nt  with  the  owner;  others 
with  teams,  cooking  utensils,  and  blankets,  sometimes 
with  and  sometimes  without  tents,  travel  in  various 
directions,  up  and  d(nvn  the  Coast  range  or  across 
to  Yosemite  or  other  parts  of  the  Sierra. 

Caujping  is  quite  an  art.  Let  not  the  inexperi- 
enced treat  lightly  its  mysteries.  No  great  talent  is 
necessary  for  one,  or  two,  or  three  men  to  start  on  an 
excursion,  hunt  all  day,  and  at  night  cook  their  supper 
and  roll  themselves  in  their  blaidcets  for  sleep;  but  a 
AVell  regulated  first-class  cam[)  is  (piite  a  diH'erentatlair. 

First  a  site  nmst  be  selected  with  due  I'egard  to 
water,  game,  and  general  surroundings.  The  further 
removed  it  is  from  the  highways  of  civilization,  the 
more  communication  and  conveniences  will  have  to  be 
given  up.  Then  to  provide  for  the  necessities  of  a 
jiarty  of  men,  women,  and  children  for  weeks  or 
months,  to  prepare  sleeping  acconnnodatitms,  lay  in 
stock  of  provisions,  and  gc^t  all  upon  the  ground  in 
jtroper  shape  is  no  small  matter.     The  party  once  hi 


111 


''■■:■  li 
V 

Li: 


■■3 


694 


BODY  AND  MIND. 


camp,  the  idiosyncrasies  of  each  are  brought  out  in 
hold  relief;  the  strong  men  appear  stronger,  the  silly 
girls  sillier,  the  efficient  matron  more  efficient,  and  if 
the  boy  has  any  manliness  it  is  sure  to  show  itself  now. 
The  good  and  bad  qualities  of  both  old  and  youtig 
force  themselves  in  spite  of  their  owners  to  the  front. 

Camping  tries  the  strings  of  friendship.  It  does 
not  do  as  a  rule  for  those  who  would  retain  a  chival- 
rous respect  for  one  another  long  to  remain  in  camp 
together.  It  is  easier  for  the  civilized  man  to  play 
the  savage  than  for  the  savage  to  play  a  civilized  i)art. 

Not  all  can  throw  off  even  the  outer  trappings  of 
conventionalism  and  still  display  a  smooth  symmetri- 
cal fiirure.  Not  all  can  be  themselves  ojracefullv. 
Not  all  can  let  in  upon  their  true  selves  the  unob- 
structed light  to  their  credit. 

There  is  reality  to  camp  life  as  well  as  romance; 
pain  as  well  as  pleasure.  To  leave  the  dusted  fog  of 
the  city  for  some  warm  sj-lvan  retreat;  to  lay  aside 
tlie  chains  of  society  and  be  free  for  a  time;  to  roam 
the  hills  by  day  with  deatli-dealing  breech-loaders, 
lord  of  the  ground-squirrel  and  the  hare;  to  lie  at 
night  upon  the  ground  watching  the  twinkling  stars 
peep  tiirough  the  buckeye  branches,  to  sleep  famicd 
by  the  cool,  dry,  hivigorating  air,  and  in  the  morning 
to  be  wakened  by  bands  of  feathered  songsters,  who;" 
nuisic  no  human  strains  can  equal;  to  plunge  into  th<' 
stream  and  play  fish,  mingling  with  the  respective 
members  of  the  fish  family,  now  with  crab  and  now 
with  trout,  gulping  and  spouting  and  splashing  with  the 
})est  of  them,  looking  down  upon  the  variegated  pebbl\' 
bottom,  looking  up  the  sides  of  the  canon  walls  who.sn 
summits  reach  the  skies,  becoming  one  with  nature, 
becoming  nature  herself,  the  chief  difference  between 
us  and  our  companion,  bears  and  alligators,  being  tliafc 
we  know  how  to  cheat — all  this  is  most  exquisite;  but 
every  human  heaven  has  its  Acheron-pit  not  far  hence. 

The  Californian  camper  for  his  sins  is  placed  1»e- 
neath  a  broiling  sun  so  hot  as  to  melt  bones  and  evap- 


CAMPmO. 


695 


orate  brain;  streams  come  pantin<]f  from  the  liills 
bereft  of  every  refreshinj^  quality  save  wetness,  and 
the  noiseless  breeze  is  stifling  as  from  an  oven;  li/artls 
creep  over  the  blistering  stones,  and  the  heated  sands 
in  treading  on  them  feel  to  the  feet  like  the  newly 
emptied  ashes  of  a  furnace;  glistening  snakes  trail 
tlirough  the  silvery  ineand(3scent  grass,  and  bloodless 
winged  insects  dance  throuofh  the  short  day  of  tlu-ir 
existence.  Every  cool  shade  is  preempted  by  nuis- 
quitos,  and  every  inviting  nook  entertains  with  poison 
oak.  Beft)re  the  tired  hunter  who,  with  blisttircul 
f(;et  and  lacerated  limbs  climbs  the  craggy  hills,  tlu; 
game  flees  yet  weary  miles  away,  and  the  patient  fish- 
erman sits  by  the  stream  all  day  witlu^ut  a  nibble. 
Add  to  these  evils  rats  and  reptiles  as  bed-fellows,  the 
burnings  of  indigestion  arishig  from  the  poorly  ct)<)k((l 
meats,  and  the  little  bickerings  and  disagreements 
inseparable  from  all  but  the  most  sensible  or  amial)le 
of  associates,  and  the  universal  law  of  compensation 
a[»jiears  here  as  elsewhere  in  human  affairs. 

Often  have  I  thrown  myself  weary  upon  a  grassy 
bank  inviting  to  repose,  only  to  find  myself  stung  with 
nettles  and  buzzing  bugs  about  my  ears,  or  ants  and 
reptiles  crawling  over  me.  Physical  enjoyment  is  not 
the  highest  or  most  refined  species  of  pleasure;  yet 
of  all  physical  pleasures  none  disi)lay  tastes  so  savage 
or  which  are  in  themselves  so  debasing  as  the  -hunt- 
ing  and  killing  of  anunals. 

I  never  was  much  fascinated  with  the  bloody, 
though  I  have  no  doubt  necessary,  occupation  of 
butcherinjx.  The  excitements  of  the  chase  liave  fas- 
cinations  for  me,  and  where  game  is  plenty  I  can  lose 
myself  in  slaynig  it,  but  I  cannot  but  feel  that  next  to 
killing  men  killing  beasts  is  the  most  brutalizing  of 
l)astimes.  But  most  lamentable  of  all  is  tlie  wanton 
slaughter  of  birds,  beasts,  and  fishes,  witiiout  regard 
either  to  human  necessities  or  any  considerations  of 
parent  and  offspring. 

But  you  say  it  is  according  to  nature.     That  may 


'■"I 


I 


'II  ii 


li:':!^ 


i 


«oe 


BODY  AND  MIND. 


l)o  tnio,  l)ut  there  are  many  tilings  in  nature  doKisini''. 
Civilization  is  a  constant  war  on  natun;.  Only  tanitd 
nu-n  and  tamed  beasts  kill  more  than  tluy  need  for 
food — a  pro^Hiisity  in  man  it  wire  well  not  to  culti- 
vate. It  in  the  takin<jf  of  that  mysterious  life  Avhieh 
hi  man  is  the  most  hi;;ldy  prized  of  all  tilings.  It  is 
gratifying  oneself  at  the  exp«Mise  of  another.  To  hill 
a  sweet  songster  for  a  mouthful  of  meat  is  vandalism 
on  nature.  Wliy  should  I  carry  my  Cain-accursed 
propensity  for  robbhig  and  klllhig  into  the  families  of 
nature's  innocents  when  there  are  so  many  liuman 
scorpions  yet  undestroyed?  Rather  let  th(3  humane 
mail  in  the  country  look  at  life  and  see  (clod's  crea- 
tures enjoy  it;  or  if  he  must  slay  something  let  him 
hunt  the  Jegislalive  halls,  the  marts  of  ronnnerce,  and 
other  busy  hauntsof  men  fortlTings  fittest  forslaughter. 

Most  of  all  others,  he  Avho  lives  cnvelofK-d  in  the 
mists  of  sensitiveness  needs  a  friend.  !Most  of  all 
otluirs,  he  whose  retiring  instincts  unfold  inttu'ests  and 
ambitions,  draw  him  from  his  fellows,  shut  him  within 
himself,  and  wrap  round  him  a  non-conducting  cover- 
ing of  crushed  egoism,  clouding  that  social  sunshine 
wlilcli  of  all  things  his  soul  covets,  imprisoning  mind 
and  heart  affections  within  the  dark,  dank  walls  of  a 
detestable  mauvaisc  Jicmfe,  mid  dooming  him  while  sur- 
rounded by  those  whose  hearts  warm  toward  him  and 
toward  whom  his  heart  warms,  to  a  life  of  unutter- 
able aloneuess,  iKx^ds  one  near  liim  who  shall  be  to 
him  an  alter  ajo  before  whom  ho  may  a})pear  unre- 
strained even  by  his  own  consciousness,  and  to  whom 
ho  may  open  and  air  the  musty  chambers  of  liis  in- 
most being. 

Such  a  friend  need  not  bo  rich,  or  great,  or  intel- 
lectual, or  learned,  ho  must  bo  simply  fitting.  He 
sliould  be  one  not  already  bound  to  his  lover  by  family 
ties  or  business  obligations;  he  should  be  a  man 
whom  manliness  might  marry  in  all  true  inwardness 
and  without  the  bias  of  externals. 


Si 
noNc 
noth 


FIlIKNhSlUr. 


il'.>7 


Sucii  a  fri<'n(l  I  had  and  lost,  but  not  hy  d(>atli.  I 
iicNcr  knew  liow  niudi  lie  was  to  in(.'  until  lie  was 
nothinj^  to  nie.  Tlion  I  saw  how,  duihi},^  all  tiu'  o"lad 
seasons,  all  the  lonj^  years  of  swiftly-l'asshiL;'  hours  I 
had  ('njt>ye<l  him,  my  s()ul  had  fed  u}>on  his  friendship 
— h«»w  my  huni^ry  soul  had  i'vd,  and  was  satislicd. 

Ife  was  a  J>i))i-v!i'((iit  of  tlu'  rii;ht  honoiahlc  order  of 
l)rok(;rs,  and  a  model  member  of  tlie  mad  fraternity. 
As  a  man  of  the  world,  he  was  a<-ute,  bold,  clear- 
lieade<l,  lively.  He  was  tlu^  soul  of  honor,  and  so 
careful  of  his  clients'  interests  that  I  have  known  him 
rei>eate<llv  to  ixx-ket  a  loss  arisuii;'  thr»>Utjh  no  fault  of 
his,  and  never  reveal  the  fact. 

Nervous,  hi,!j;hly-struni;',  (juick  as  unchained  linht- 
ninii^,  and  fiery  as  Lucifer,  he  was  specially  ad;t|>ted 
to  his  arduous  callinijj,  and  was  one  of  the  most  efH- 
cient  mend)ers  of  the  board.  The  work  so  wore  upon 
lilm,  howe\eT',  that  at  times  I  could  discern  fmn  day 
to  day  a  sinking'  undc>r  it,  until  he  was  foi'ced  t>>  take 
rest.  Then  he  would  want  me,  and  I  was  usnally 
ready  to  attend  him,  for  at  that  time  I  had  nr)  fiinily 
at  hand  to  break  the  dead  weight  of  mental  applica- 
tion. 

He  was  peculiar  In  inanv  wavs,  but  his  little;  sin-'U- 
larities  I  loved.  I  never  knew  a  more  open-heartid 
or  fi'CHT-handed  man.  I  never  knew  one  more  pure- 
minded,  or  further  remoxed  from  littleness.  H(3 
knew  not  what  meanness  was,  except  as  he  encoun- 
tered it  in  others,  and  then  it  was  so  repuy,iiant  to  liis 
nature  that  he  sel(l()m  referred  to  the  subject,  no  niat- 
t(>r  how  exasp(!rating  had  been  the  circumstance.  Of 
''N(piisite  sensibilities,  his  whole  being  .s('emed  attuned 
to  the  most  refined  strains  of  soul  and  sense.  Every- 
tlnng  that  he  touched  must  be  of  the  best.  He  was 
Mfupulously  neat  in  his  habits,  and  his  heart  was  as 
clean  as  his  hand.  He  loved  good  company,  a  good 
1id)]<\  frood  wine  and  c'lLi'ars,  and  (jfood  horses;  and  no 
matter  how  times  were,  or  whether  he  was  making  or 
]<'sing    money,  whether   he  was   flush    or   bankrupt, 


m 


•I.M 


* 


':;fi 

\4r 


lilt 


698  BODY  AND  MIND. 

these  things  lie  wouhl  have,  and   to  his  friends  he 
poured  tlioni  out  Hke  water. 

Never  man  so  wound  himself  round  all  my  thoughts 
and  purposes  ;  never  was  friend  so  intertwined  among 
affection's  heart-strings.  Full  of  electrical  joy  to  nit" 
was  the  air  he  breathed;  full  of  gladness  was  my 
heart  when  the  sound  of  his  voice  struck  my  ear,  and 
his  smile  sent  the  warm,  thrilling^  sunlight  into  mv 
soul.  His  was  one  of  the  most  happy,  cheerful  dispo- 
sitions I  ever  encountered.  In  his  hours  of  recreation 
he  was  as  joyous  as  a  child,  and  as  free  and  frolicsonu-. 
It  were  worth  one  term  of  torture, — the  happy  hours 
I  have  si)ent  witli  hiin. 

Because  our  daily  occupations  were  so  widely  differ- 
ent, I  enjoyed  his  com}>any  the  more.  The  mys- 
teries of  stock-boards  were  as  unfathomable  to  me  as 
those  of  history-writhig  were  to  him.  On  the  tinii, 
clean,  common  ground  of  pleasurable  emotion  we  met; 
on  the  ground  of  s[)ontaneous  liking  for  each  other- 
this,  and  nothing  more.  He  was  married,  and  lie 
liusl)anded  and  fathered  a  charming  family,  whose 
members  lived  in  him  and  he  in  them. 

About  their  home  was  an  air  of  refinement,  mingled 
with  a  joyous  ease  and  freedom  which  nature  herself 
might  envy.  Few  homes  were  ever  happier,  fe\v  moiv 
fascinating.  Though  not  as  rich  as  some,  whatcnc  r 
})leasui'es  money  could  buy  were  lavishly  bestow^ed  l»y 
the  indulgent  father,  and  sad  indeed  nmst  be  the  dis- 
tress that  should  cloud  the  radiant  features  of  the  lov- 
intr  wife  and  mother. 

And  he  is  lost  to  me !  Surely  my  cup  of  pleasuiv 
never  seemed  to  overHow  before  ;  was  it,  then,  neces- 
sary to  mix  wormwood  in  the  only  draught  tasteful  to 
me  i  Nay,  never  was  foul  mixture  proffered  by  him ; 
rather,  was  it  necessary  to  dash  this  cup  from  my  lips 
and  leave  me  forever  thirstv  for  a  friend  ? 

Lost!  And  yet,  we  never  quarreled.  We  had 
never  aught  to  bring  disagreement  between  n^. 
Neither  souijht  advantayje  over  the  other.     Neither 


LOST ! 


699 


wished  anything  the  other  would  not  gladly  grant, 
were  it  in  his  })o\ver.  Money  i  He  would  pour  out 
gold  like  water  for  nie,  and  delight  in  doing  it. 

Lost  1  And  never  an  unkind  word  I  And  all  the 
while  my  heart  going  out  toward  hiin  like  that  of 
mother  or  brother. 

Lost  to  me !  and  as  effectually  as  if  he  were  dead  : 
and  I  have  wished  that  one  of  us  were  dead,  that  the 
separation  might  be  consecrated  l)y  the  inexorable.  I 
have  mourned  him  as  dead,  and  to  my  d}ing  day  I 
will  so  mourn  him.  He  was  the  light  of  my  days — 
tlie  only  liglit  that  penetrated  certain  dark  corneis 
within  ;  why  should  I  not  mourn  the  darkness  that 
sliall  never  again  be  dissii)ated  ? 

Lost!  And  the  undoing  all  my  own,  all  by  my 
own  fault ;  by  no  fault  of  his,  for  he  never  had  a  fault 
of  friendship.  It  is  pitiful;  it  is  daiiniable  1  A  sacri- 
fice, I  might  call  it,  laid  by  the  high-}>i'iest  of  friend- 
sliip  upon  the  altar  of  idolatiy.  It  was  a  martyrdom 
wliich  I  was  called  upon  to  suffer,  witli  misery  as  the 
only  crown.  From  the  point  our  patli  divided,  on  to 
eternity,  I  find  no  other  friend.  For  me,  among  men 
tliere  is  no  other.  In  none  who  walk  the  earth  does 
my  presence  kindle  the  euclianting  ilame ;  none  wlio 
walk  the  eartli  warm  the  cold  chambers  of  my  heart 
as  (lid  his  })resence. 

Tliroughout  tlie  wide  univcTse  there  is  not  that  ob- 
ject, as})iration,  or  being  to  take  his  place.  One  can- 
not make  friends  as  one  makes  money,  off-setting 
loss  by  gain,  and  strikitig  a  balance.  Once  a 
string  of  the  heart's  sounding-board  snapjud,  and 
tliere  is  no  mendiiiLi'  it.     You  may  insert  another,  but 


it  uives  not  forth  the  old  music. 


%  'III 


m 


\i}) 


■fflH 


1   ■■,.■: 


■'i  i 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 


EXPP]])IT10NS  TO  MEXK'O. 

By  tlie  mess,  ere  these  eyes  of  mine  take  themselves  to  slombcr,  ay  11  do 
guil  service,  or  ay'll  lig  i'  the  gruml  for  it;  ay,  or  go  to  death. 

Kiwj  Jliiiry  thf  FiJ'lh. 

Having  read  and  written  so  much  about  Mexico, 
it  was  but  natural  that  I  should  wish  to  go  there.  I 
liad  completed  the  history  of  all  that  region,  with 
abundance  of  material,  down  to  the  year  IHOO,  and  for 
the  present  century  I  knew  that  tliere  existed  houses 
full  of  information  which  I  did  not  })ossess. 

Accordingly  on  the  1st  day  of  Septend)er,  188J},  I 
set  out,  accompanied  by  my  daughter  and  a  Mexican 
servant,  for  the  great  city  of  the  table-land,  proceed 
ino;  via  San  Antonio  and  Laredo,  Texas.  I  took 
copious  notes  of  everything  1  encountered,  the  tiibl, 
spread  of  frijoles,  tortillas,  olla  podrida,  and  the  rest, 
c  )oked  witli  garlic  and  onions  in  rancid  oil,  sending 
forth  a  stygian  smell  not  at  all  ap|)eti/-ing  ;  the  nmddy 
Rio  Bravo,  now  angry  and  swollen  with  late  rains, 
wluch  wo  had  to  cross  in  a  scow  at  the  }»eril  of  oiii- 
lives;  the  general  and  universal  dirtiness  pervading 
people,  houses,  and  streets  ;  the  currency,  being  niostlx 
silver,  and  at  a  discount  of  about  twenty-five  ]»er  cent 
below  United  States  money ;  the  mixi'd  S))anisli 
and  Indian  population  and  architecture,  the  fornitr 
of  all  shades  of  color  and  beastliness,  most  of  tlir 
people  being  ugly  looking,  and  many  of  them  deformed 
and  absolutely  hideous,  the  latter  of  ever}'  grade. 
from  the  Andalusian  dwelling  of  stone  or  adobe. 
surrounding  a  court,  to  the  suburban  hut  of  sticks  and 
straw  ;  the  soil,  climate,  and  resources  of  the  countr\  ; 

<  700) 


LIBRAUIKS  AND  LITERATURE. 


701 


eommorco,  ajj^rioulturc,  and  nianufacturos ;  soriotv. 
politics,  etc.,  all  ofwlilcli  I  utilized  at  good  advaiitago 
in  Volume  vi  of  my  History  of  Mexico,  and  wliicli  I 
shall  not  have  space  to  touch  upon  here.  One  tliinjjj, 
liowever,  I  did  not  present  there,  wliich  I  will  o'ive 
here,  it  beinj*',  indeed,  the  chief  ohject  of  my  visit  to 
ascertain,  namelv,  about  libraries  and  literature,  ;ui«l 
the  amount  and  (juality  of  material  for  history  exist- 
in;jf  in  the  republic. 

I  did  not  find  at  JNIonterey  the  archives  so  histoiic 
a  place  might  lead  one  to  expect.  Tlitn-e  were  the 
usual  state  aufl  numicipal  documents,  of  little  value 
and  limited  extent,  and  in  answer  to  a  call  of  the 
governor,  the  nucleus  of  a  state  library  had  been  made 
bv  donations.  The  best  library  hi  this  re'>ii)n  was  that 
of  the  bishop  of  Linares,  I.  ]\[ontes  de  ( )ca,  renowned 
throughout  the  republic  for  his  ability  and  learning. 

Zacatecas  has  one  of  the  finest  pr'ivate  libraries  in 
the  country,  in  the  possession  of  Senor  Ortega. 

SaltiUo  has  even  less  to  boast  of  than  jMonteny  in 
archives  and  libraries.  With  unsurpassed  facilities 
for  saving  great  masses  of  valuable  historical  and 
statistical  iidormation,  almost  all  has  been  allowed  to 
lie  carried  away  or  destroved  throuu'h  sheer  i«>iioi-a nee 
and  stupidity. 

As  we  ]>enetrate  the  country  we  are  more  nnd 
more  struck  with  the  phenomenon  of  a  republic  with- 
out a  people.  There  is  lun'e  no  middle  class.  The 
aristocracy  are  the  nation.  The  low  are  very 
low;  they  are  poor,  igiiorant,  servile,  and  debased; 
with  neither  the  heart  nor  the  hope  ev(^r  to 
attempt  to  better  their  condition.  I  have  nev(>r 
liefore  witnessetl  such  squalid  mis(>ry,  and  so  much 
ef  it.  It  surpasses  Europe,  and  with  this  dif- 
f<'rence:  in  Europe  the  mis(>rable  know  th(y  are  mis- 
''rablc,  hero  they  do  not.  Sit  at  th(^  door  of  your  so- 
•  alled  hotel,  "nd  you  will  see  pass  by,  as  in  a  panorama 
of  the  accurst,  the  withered,  the  deformed,  th(^  lame, 
uiij  the  blind,  deep   in  debaseineut,  their  humanity 


'    I 


/   ll 


702 


EXPEDITIONS  TO  MEXICO. 


well-nijjfh  hidden  in  tlicir  din<]fy,  dirty  raiment,  form 
bent  and  eyes  cast  down,  as  if  the  Hujht  of  heaven  and 
tlie  eyes  of  man  were  equally  pauiful — liunchbaoks 
Slid  dwarfs;  little  filthy  mothers  with  little  filthy 
habes,  the  former  but  fourteen  years  old  ;  grizzly  nun 
and  women  with  wrinkled  tanned  skin,  bent  double, 
and  hobblinjij  on  canes  and  crutches,  and  so  on.  Into 
such  pits  of  deep  abasement  does  man  thrust  his 
felhnv  man  in  the  name  of  Christ  and  civilization, 
^rindin<^  him  into  the  dust,  under  pretext  of  bene- 
fiting him.  Infinitely  hapi)ier  and  better  off,  and  far 
less  debased  and  wretched  were  the  people  of  this 
j)lateau  before  ever  a  European  saw  it. 

Saltillo  being  at  this  time  the  terminus  of  the  rail- 
way, we  took  private  conveyance  to  San  Luis  l^otosi. 
and  thence  to  Lagos  by  stage.  This,  really,  is  the  only 
way  to  see  a  country,  if  one  does  not  mind  hard 
fare.  For  a  fine  city,  beautiful,  prosperous,  some 
what  {irimitive,  being  as  yet  unmarred  by  railroads. 
San  Luis  Potosi  has  few  equals.  Art  and  education 
are  likewise  here  well  advanced,  the  state  supi)orting 
577  schools,  with  12,020  attendance. 

I  found  here  a  man  who  had  visited  my  library 
wliile  in  the  United  State  s,  Doctor  Barroeta,  a  ])ni<- 
tising  physician,  and  i)rofessor  of  botany  and  zoology 
in  the  Scientific  Institute  of  this  city,  which  has  qultr 
an  extensive  and  valuable  nmseum.  The  state  and 
nmnicipal  archives,  consisting  of  proceedings  since 
1G58,  fill  a  room  thirty  feet  square.  Tlie  state 
archives  are  kept  in  bundles  on  slielves,  and  the  city 
archives  in  cupboards.  El  Seminario,  or  the  catholif 
college,  has  a  well-kejit  library  of  4500  volumes  of 
theology,  law,  }»hilosophy,  and  history. 

But  by  far  the  best  and  most  im})ortant  collection 
thus  far  seen  since  leaving  San  Francisco  was  the  San 
Luis  l^otosi  state  library,  called  the  llihUofcca  Pnhllcd 
del  Cicvfijicoy  Liicrario,  of  which  I  obtained  a  printid 
catalogue  of  about  8,000  titles,  under  th(>  headings. 
Jurisprudence,  Ecclesiastical  Laws,  Science  and  Art, 


.ftli 


and 


SAN  LUIS  rOTOSl. 


:u3 


Belles  Lettres,  History,  and  Tlieolo*jfy.  The  oollectioii 
dates  from  1824.  The  laws  and  lej^islatlvo  documents 
are  incom[)lete,  owing  to  fre(|uent  revolutions.  The 
whole  of  the  year  18J34  is  a  blank,  also  the  period  of 
the  so-called  empire,  or  French  intervention.  Besides 
the  Diario  Oficial  of  the  o-cneral  United  States  ]\[exi- 
can  j^ovcrnment  from  1872,  was /yi  i!'<(>7nhra  de  Zara- 
()oz(i  from  1807,  givinijf  full  information  of  political 
affairs  in  this  section  to  the  overthrow  of  the  admin- 
istration of  Leido  de  Tejada,  which  administration  it 
sustaincul.  Thus  will  be  seen,  without  further  enume- 
ration and  description,  what  one  mitrht  reasonably 
expect  to  find  in  the  state  capitals  throui^hout  the  re- 
])ublic,  that  is  to  say,  from  very  fair  collections  down 
to  nothins^.  The  keeper  of  the  state  librarv  uathered 
for  me  a  bundle  of  documents  containing'  the  most 
important  information  concerning  the  state  of  San 
Luis  Potosf,  so  that,  by  purchase  and  otherwise,  I  was 
able  hero,  and  at  other  places  along  my  route  before 
rea(^hing  the  federal  capital,  to  add  about  500  titles  to 
my  library. 

There  is  much  that  is  fascinating  in  this  quaint  old 
town,  with  its  historic  buildings,  its  nmle-mint,  and 
sjiops,  and  signs  over  the  doors  such  as  VA  Xuevo 
T'^den,  a  l)illiard  saloon;  Al  Fiel  Pastt)r,  a  toy-sj.op ; 
T^a  Scnsitiva,  a  wine  and  ci<i-ar  store ;  La  Ele'jancia, 
a  barber's  shop.  I  will  leave  to  others  a  descri|)tio!i 
of  the  cathedral,  and  ])resent  to  the  reader  this  ])arber's 
sliop,  where  I  did  myself  the  lu^ior  to  get  sJuived. 
;Vtt(Midant  on  the  ope  rator  was  a  man  .and  a  boy.  'V\w 
man  held  a  towisl  and  the  boy  a  brush  ;  if  tlie  grand 
knight  dropped  his  comb,  the  boy  sprang  for  \t,  if  lie 
siiap})ed  his  finger  for  a  napkin,  the  man  bow(  d  low 
bciforo  him  with  the  desired  cloth.  I  brongliL  away 
with  mc  a  printed  slip  detailing  the  advantages  of  this 
tonsorial  temple  and  the  merits  of  its  acc(»iiijilislied 
high  priest.  Freely  translated,  it  reads:  "Tlie  Fle- 
gance.  Hsiir-dressing.  Principal  Plaza.  Cleamiess 
and    elegance,    attention,  and    prom])tneiss.     Cenobio 


lit 


rf>ri 

9-it   ■ 
3'S'  '> 


Ml 

! 

hi 

■ ''  1 

% 

■1; 
-1 

w- 

m 

I   .'.ii  ; : 

704 


KXrF,DITIO\,S  TO  MEXICO. 


Santos  Velazquez,  professor  in  phlt;l)otomy  of  the  fac- 
ulty of  this  capital,  lias  tlio  honor  to  inform  lils  nu- 
merous clients  that  this  estahllshnuMit  has  a  regular 
price  for  shavli\g,  by  wlTu'li  one  can  get  twenty  tickets 
at  the  mo(l(>rate  i)rice  of  fi^'o  for  a  dollar,  the  bearer 
being  able  to  use;  them  -when  he  likes.  Besides  this, 
all  the  o}ierations  r(>lathig  to  the  scii-nce  of  phlebotomy 
ar(!  practised,  such  as  bleeding  with  a  lancet,  a[>[>lica- 
tion  of  leeches,  cupping  or  scarifying  with  glass,  caur;- 
tics,  bll.sters,  jets,  setons,  vaccination.  In  ojievatioiis 
of  the  mouth,  to  clean,  fiU',  straighten,  fill,  and  i-xtract 
molars,  roots,  and  teeth.  Here  are  found  leeches  of 
the  best  khid,  which  are  used  only  once,  for  the  greater 
guaranty  of  the  public.  The  works  of  hair-dri'ssing, 
as  big  wigs,  little  wigs,  helmet  wigs,  braids,  diaih  nis, 
friz7.es,  beards,  nmstaches,  whiskers,  and  all  the  various 
branches  of  the  art  will  be  performed  with  the  greatest 
attention  and  ])romptness."  Perfumt-ry  is  then  adver- 
tised, and  finally,  dyeing.  The  document  concludes  : 
"To  the  solenm  poor,  work  is  free," — that  is,  to  tliti 
poor  of  good  standing,  the  poor  of  grave;  aspect,  the 
pious  poor,  the  highly  respectable  pool',  the  poor  who 
ncner  would  ask. 

Staging  in  ]\[exico  is  an  experience  few  care  to  rc- 
peat.  And  yet  it  has  its  fascinations.  Passing  down 
over  the  plateau,  the  traveller  finds  vast  areas  covered 
with  hojasen,  a  kind  of  sage-brush,  nuOTpiite,  <';cil»er- 
nadora,  and  agrita,  and  he  expi'riences  a  sense  of  lone- 
liness, or  of  st)mething  lacking,  away  from  the  leading 
lines  of  trafHc.  An  occasional  band  of  sheej)  or  herd 
of  cattle,  accompanied  by  a  herder  or  va(jU(-ro,  aloiu; 
bri>aks  the  monotony.  It  is  the  absence  of  this  s;iine 
nnddlo  class,  before  discussed,  which  should  be  ovi' 
spreading  the  land  with  their  m^-riads  of  happy  homes. 
This  laiul  is  f  vrtile,  and  needs  only  irrigation  to  su))- 
porfc  a  1,'irgo  po|>ulation.  llo  journeys  league  after 
league  through  silent,  untenanted  fields,  with  here  and 
there  a  hut  or  a  cluster  of  adobes,  and  at  intervals  an 
luunonda  and  a  town.      It  is  always  an  hacienda  or  a 


STAOINC}  OVKIl  THE  PLATEAU. 


706 


h'lt.  The  owner  of  tliu  foniuT,  wlio  spcnrls  little  of 
his  tinio  on  the  invniises,  holds  from  five  to  tifty,  .ind 
sometimes  a  hundred,  s<[uare  leagues  of  lands  ;  the 
occupant  of  the  latter  is  essentially  his  serf,  though 
not  legally  or  literally  so.  Around  the  large,  fortress- 
like adol)e  buildings  of  the  hacendero  are  grouped  the 
jacales,  or  thatched  huts  of  the  laborers,  the  occasional 
herders'  jmts  being  scattered  over  the  plains. 

Evcrythuig  strikes  a  stranger  as  old,  exceedingly 
old,  and  dh'ty.  The  towns  of  thatcOicd  huts  and  tile- 
roofed  adobes,  with  their  central  ])la/a  and  church, 
market-] )lace,  little  shops,  and  ])oor  inn,  are  all  of  the 
same  pattern  as  the  more  ])retentious  cities  which  dis- 
play more  stone  in  their  construction  ;  when  you  have 
seen  one  of  them,  you  have  seen  them  all. 

The  cosey  plaza  in  the  centre  of  the  town,  with  its 
]>aved  walks  leading  to  the  fountain  in  the  centre, 
orange-tree  borders,  and  l»eds  of  shrubs  and  ilowers, 
is  usually  (juite  attractive,  and  in  fact,  throughout 
]\[exico  the  plaza,  where  at  dusk  the  peoi)le  gather 
to  listen  to  nmsic  by  the  band,  walk  and  talk,  flii-t 
and  gossi[),  is  at  once  a  uni(]ue  and  charming  feature 
of  ^lexican  life. 

Few  have  suburbs  drawn  out  in  filthy  huts  or 
elegant  homes,  but  stop  short,  as  if  at  a  wall,  which, 
indeed,  has  encircletl  many  of  them  at  some  period  of 
tlieir  existence  as  protection  against  surprise  by  nui- 
rauding  bands  of  Indians  or  guerrillas.  The  region 
r*>antl  is  too  often  a  dreary  waste,  with  stretches  of 
sand,  or  with  bare-looking  cultivated  stri[)s. 

In  most  of  the  cities,  the  Asiatic  style  of  architec- 
ture is  cons})icuous,  the  ]\Iot)rish,  perhaps,  {)nMl()mi- 
iiatin<if.  The  houses  with  their  solid  walls  are  usuallv 
of  one  story,  low,  with  flat  tiled  roof,  the  better  class 
liullt  round  a  court,  with  a  wide  entrance,  closed  at 
night  with  double  doors,  and  having  iron-barred  win- 
dows devoid  of  glass  looking  into  the  court  and  street, 
or  as  often  without  wind«»ws.  The  palaces,  as  they 
are  called,  and  the  better  class  of  dwellings  are  usually 


I 


Lit.  iN-n.    45. 


706 


EXPEDITIONS  TO  :SIEXIC0. 


of  two  stories,  witli  colonnades,  arched,  perhaps,  in 
masonry  l^elow  and  roofed  with  wooden  rafters  above. 
The  floors  are  usually  of  burnt-clay  tiles,  and  bare. 
( )utsi<le  run  narrow  stone  sidewalks,  frequently  woi-n 
hollow  l)y  centuries  of  use.  Though  everywhere  with 
plain  and  often  forbidding  exteriors,  there  are  dwell- 
ings in  the  chief  cities  with  interiors  of  oriental  luxury 
and  splendor. 

Land  and  vegetation  and  cultivation  improve  as 
the  central  and  southern  portions  of  the  republic  an- 
reached.  Here  arc  setn  vast  stretches  as  fertile  and 
beautiful  as  any  in  the  world,  producing  three  crops  a 
3' car  by  irrlgiliou  and  attention;  and  places  are  found 
of  pronounced  character,  displaying  marked  hidividu- 
ality,  such  as  IVtexico  City,  Vera  Cruz,  Queretaro, 
Oajaca,  (Juadalajara,  and  others,  some  owing  their 
origin  to  missionary  convents,  some  to  the  will  of  a 
rirli  landholder,  others  to  the  course  of  trade.  Elegant 
villas  can  be  seen  in  the  suburban  towns  of  the  capital, 
but  there  is  scarcely  in  the  republic  what  would  be 
known  in  the  United  States  as  a  country-seat  or  a 
farm-house. 

Notwithstanding  the  monotony,  the  observer  finds 
much  that  is  exceedingly  pictures(|ue.  The  towns 
and  the  country,  the  people  and  their  surroundings, 
all  present  studies.  Here  is  foliage  filled  with  blos- 
soms and  loaded  with  fruit ;  here  are  fragrant  flowers 
and  fiintastic  jiarasitcs,  palms,  orange  and  lemon  trees, 
and  a  thousand  other  offshoots  of  redundant  nature — 
tiiis  for  the  tierra  caliente,  and  also  for  the  footland 
cities ;  and  for  the  table-lands,  colored  hills  and  plains 
covered  with  a  peculiar  vegetation. 

The  statuesque  is  everywhere.  Over  thousands  of 
leagues  you  may  go  and  see  ten  thousand  weird  and 
fantastic  images  in  the  palm  and  the  cactus,  in  the 
mirage  and  in  the  mountain.  The  southern  sierras 
are  grand,  and  of  everv  hue  and  height  and  contour. 

In  the  cities  the  churches  stand  conspicuous,  and  on 
the  streets  are  figures  of  every  form  and  pose.     Drive 


THE  STATUESQUE. 


707 


into  anv  town  In  anv  hour  of  tlio  day  or  niiijht,  l)o  it 
in  s('orcliin;4  sumnior  or  tVce/in!^  wintiT,  and  standiii!^ 
by  tlio  roadside  and  in  the  doorways  are  o;rini  fi<nir('S 
wra])ped  in  scrapes  and  rel)ozos,  niotionless  and  sih-nt, 
l)ut  always  graceful  and  picturesque.  You  see  them 
wlicn  you  conic  and  when  you  i^o,  as  if  they  had 
stood  tliere  since  Mexico  was  made,  and  were  now 
waitinu^  for  the  last  trump  to  sound. 

In  travellinij;'  far  liy  diliii^cncia,  race  col  rs  approach 
eacli  c»ther,  the  dark  skin  hehiiili'-lhtcned  and  tlic  li<>]it 
skin  darknu'd  hy  «^lirt.  I  sit  on  top  behind  the  drivci-s, 
for  thei'C  are  two,  the  cochero  and  his  deputy,  who 
are  wholly  oblivious  of  my  })resence  until  a,  few  rcales 
to  each  make  me  known  to  them.  So  stationed,  and 
watchii^jf  their  movements  for  three  daj^s,  havinnj  little 
else  to  do  but  to  hokl  on  and  keep  my  face  from  blis- 
terin<;',  I  come  to  know  them  well,  and  to  be  able  to 
count  uiion  my  fiii'n^rs  their  distin^uishinii;  character- 
istics. 

The  cochero  was  a  small  man,  weiuhin;^-  but  little 
oyer  one  hundred  pountls,  and  measurinti'  not  ovi'r  five 
feet  four,  but  his  muscles  were  steel,  lie  wore  wliite 
cotton  breeches,  leathern  len'^in^s,  untaimed  k^atln-r 
boots,  white  cotton  jacket,  slouched  straw  sombrero 
with  the  orthotlox  four  dents  in  the  hi;4h-i>ointed 
crown,  and  a  colored  hankerchief  lound  his  neck  or 
waist.  He  was  the  most  tliabolically  ha]>py  felhnv  I 
iver  met;  he  used  to  find  vent  for  his  high  spirits  in 
cutting  with  his  whij)  at  the  passing  cait-nnil  s  and 
their  drivers.  Yi-t  his  voice  was  low  and  plaintive, 
as  gentle  as  that  of  any  woman,  scarcely  above  a 
whisper  even  when  issuing  orders  to  his  assistant  and 
stablemen,  of  which  there  were  usually  half  a  scoic  in 
attendance  at  the  statitMis.  His  mules  he  would  curse 
gently  and  with  a  smile. 

His  wife  rode  with  liim  for  a  da}'  and  a  night.  She 
had  a  child  in  her  arms.  The  night  was  cold — the 
early  morning  s[)ecially  so.     A  g(jwn  each,  one  thick- 


708 


EXl'i;r)ITIONS  TO  MEXICO. 


noss  of  clieap  cotton,  ami  a  flimsy  rebozo  between 
them  waH  all  their  ('lotlilnjj; ;  and  while  I  shivered  iu 
a  lu\"ivy  overcoat,  she  i\uu\v  no  si^n  of  bciiii;  cold, 
(Joclicro  was  very  kind  to  his  wife  and  child,  Ijut  that 
did  not  prevent  tho  usual  delicate  attentions  to  his 
tlozen  other  jjfirls  along  the  road. 

Soto  cochcro,  lie  called  his  assistant,  a  boy  of  six- 
teen, who  was  as  lithe  and  active  as  a  cnt,  juni[)in!j; 
off  to  hitch  U|)  a  trace,  free  therein,  instil  dilij^encc 
into  a  foriTi'tful  animal,  or  replenish  his  stock  of  stones 
for  use  while  crossin'>  a  crei-k  or  river,  runninu'  and 
clamberinijf  u[)on  tlie  staiije  and  crawlinj^  all  over  it 
while  uoinu;  at  breakneck  speed,  or  bouncin*;  about 
the  rocky  road  with  such  force  that  the  wonder  was 
how  wood  and  iron  could  be  jnit  together  so  as  t(» 
stand  the  blows.  Not  the  least  o(  the  s<»to  cochero's 
duties  was  to  keep  his  suiterior  in  ciujarettes,  lighting 
them  and  takhiii  a  few  pulfs  himsi'lf  to  be  sui'e  tln'v 
were  in  order.  He  in  turn  was  allowed  to  hold  tlu' 
reins  occasionally,  and  dri'am  of  days  when  he  would 
be  cochero.  ]3oth  of  these  fellows  had  to  be  u\)  at 
tliree  in  the  moriiinjjj  and  work  frequently  till  e'';lit 
or  ten  at  ni;j;ht,  the  one  receivinjjf  then-for  thirty  dol- 
lars a  month  and  the  other  fifteen.  Fre((uently  the 
bov  'j;ets  no  more  than  ei'>ht  or  ten  dollars,  and  has  to 
board  himself  at  that.  They  drove  eiglit  mules  ;  two 
at  the  pole,  then  four  abreast,  and  two  leadeis.  Each 
carried  a  whip,  one  with  a  short  lash,  and  one  with  a. 
lash  sixteen  feet  lonyjandan  inch  thick  at  its  thickest. 
In  usinjj;'  the  large  whip  the  driver  would  let  the  lash 
drag  out  at  full  length  for  a  moment ;  a  twist  of  his 
arm  would  then  bring  it  perfectly  coiled  high  into  the 
air,  wiien  it  would  roll  off  in  one  long  wave  and  de- 
scend with  unerring  accuracy  upon  the  off  leader's  ear, 
or  under  the  belly  of  a  nearer  animal,  the  latter  being 
the  more  difficult  feat.  If  by  good  luck  he  peeled 
the  .skin  from  some  lazy  leg,  the  faithful  lash  with 
merciless  accuracy  was  sure  ever  after  to  find  tho 
bloody  spot. 


fails  gri 


VHUV  .MULISH  MULKS. 


71  lit 


It  was  a  si''lit  to  sec  this  Ljontlo  creature  handl*^  a 


ltU('kin<i;    team    in    startlii;^    tVoiii    tlio    static 


)ii. 


Tl. 


ii()s<'8  of  tlie  wlici'lcis  are  laslied  to  tlie  l>olf,  tlieir 
iiioutlis  lilccdiiiij^,  tlit'ir  li'j^s  strikin;^  out  ia  every  di- 
rection, the  leaders  and  others  bein^,'  lield  eacli  l>y  a 
man.  At  a  low  word  from  tlu'  driver  the  men  all  Kt 
;j;o  their  hold  and  step  back.  Then  comes  the  jumii- 
inn'  and  itlun<'in«x  and  kickin<jf  and  rumiiir';  of  tl;e 
hi'utes,  while  the  cutting  lash  descends  in  rapid  blows, 
the  driver  att<'ndin<^  to  the  leaders,  whilt;  tlie  assist- 
juit  makes  forcible  su<j::<»'estions  to  the  wheelers  wiili 
his  short  heavy  whip.  Ti'ue  to  their  instincts,  the 
animals  i)resentlv  rebel  aujainst  beiii'"'  thus  uri-entlv 
jiressed  forward  ;  they  drop  down  into  a  trot,  and  let 
wauj  their  cars  in  humble  docilitv.  Then  the  assistant 
lets  fly  still  further  solid  arij;uments  in  the  shape  of 
stones,  of  which  he  has  provided  a  supply  for  the  dcea- 
sion.  A  kicking  mult^  is  the  deligiit  of  a  coehero, 
who  whips  until  the  anhnal  kicks  himself  out  of  the 
traces,  and  then  whii>s  until  he  kicks  himself  back 


a  nam. 


S. 


)f  th 


ml 


ome  or  tnese  mules  are  very  muiisii 


lish 


1  saw 

at  one  station  a  wheel-nmle  s(|uat  on  all  fours  and 
refuse  to  move,  allowing  the  coach  to  pass  over  it, 
turning  its  harness  over  its  head,  and  cutting  deep 
gaslu>s  in  its  l)ack  with  the  projecting  bolts  under  the 
axles,  ratlu^r  than  take  liis  tiaily  jaunt.  A  stdtstitute 
was  found,  and  the  mule  walked  away,  shaking  his 
head,  to  eniov  his  hard-earned  holidav. 

I  should  not  be  doing  my  duty  by  ^[exico  wert>  1 
to  jiass  by  without  notice  that  nio.st  useful  and  de- 
voted production,  the  burro — a  faithful  companion, 
a  i»atie)it  siTvant.  Behold  his  ears — his  loii'j;  hairv 
ears,  Iving  horizontal  with  his  lar-e  hairv  head  I  lb; 
wags  them  as  the  ilic^s  and  bugs  crawl  in — slowly,  sol- 
'  nmlv  wags  them,  while  a  settled  air  of  sullen  silence 
overspreads  his  features,  which  the  lash  of  the  dn\'er 
fails  greatly  to  d.sturb.  His  unshod  feet  make  little 
more  noise  on  thi^  stone  pavenu-nt  than  a  cat's,  not- 
withstanding' he  mav  be   i()'>''ing  along  under  a  load 


710 


i:.\ri:i)iTi(iNs  to  mkxico. 


l)i(r<ror  tli.in  liiiiiscit'.  Yov  <■(  iiturics  tliU  littio  brute 
lias  \n;vn  raiTvlii^'  th*'  wikuI  from  the  liiUs,  the  water 
fi'oia  tlio  rivi-rs,  tin*  produce  from  tlie  IowIuikIs,  and 
till'  ore  from  the  mines,  tin-  onmlprrsent  link  of  all 
industry,  lie  mav  l>e  seeu  sin->lv  [jririiiinn'  to  market 
tlie  wares  of  thf  mountaineer,  witli  wife  and  haliy 
perclied  atop,  or  in  trains  at  iTr^ht  la(l(!ii  witli  tlie 
products  of  nature  or  hidustry,  seeking'  the  enjiy 
market;  for  poor  indeed  is  ho  wh<>  cannot  keep  a  huric 
Overwin'ked,  underfed,  beaten,  kicked,  and  cursed,  In; 
rt mains  the  same  serene  and  stoical  Inast  to  the  last. 
To  tlie  steam-cars  on  their  first  arrival  ho  lifti-d  up 
his  ^(lice  in  welcome,  thinkin«''  his  troubii'S  at  an  end. 
But  alasl  for  man's  ingenuity,  which  Hnds  for  him  now 
more  work  tlian  ever.  So  with  a  somewhat  di-ejtenei I 
melancholy  he  relapses  into  the  philosophic  mood,  and 
accepts  each  day  its  j)rop(H'tion  of  the  foreordained 
nund)er  of  blows,  never  allowinjjf  one  of  them  to  di.^ 
turb  his  serenity,  or  cause  him  to  move  in  any  degree 
the  faster.     llai»py  burro  1 

We  pass  on  the  way  long  trains  of  large-whceleil 
caits  pileil  high  with  merchandise,  the  native  product-^ 
going  one  way  and  foreign  i)roducts  tlu!  other  way. 
The  whole  is  covered  with  white  canvas,  and  has  the 
ap[)earance  of  a  lime-kiln  on  wheels.  Each  cart  is 
drawn  by  nine  or  twelve  nmles,  driven  by  dark  niozos, 
the  ligliter-skiniu>d  conductor,  or  perha))s  owner  of 
the  train,  atten<ling  in  gay  trappings  on  horseback. 

In  the  carrying  trade  the  arrierof^,  t)r  the  drivers 
of  }>ack-trains,  play  an  important  part.  They  arc 
lionest  i)eoi)le,  conveying  cargoes  from  one  city  to  an- 
other with  scru}»ulous  care.  Owing  to  bad  roads  and 
dee[)  ravines  pack-nmles  are  employed,  on  the  whol« , 
\noro  than  wagons  or  caits.  In  past  years  the  im- 
mense carrying  trade  has  been  done  almost  entirei\ 
by  nmles,  and  not  unfrequently  thousands  might  be 
seen  starting  from  the  capital  or  a  seaport  laden  for  u 
journey  of  a   thousand  or  fifteen  hundred  miles  into 


AciUlt'ULTUUl':. 


711 


tin;  interior.  La  comhirfa,  tin;  treasure  train,  wliicli 
tiansjiortej  the  prndueis  of  tin-  niliits  and  tlu>  coin  of 
the  nii'rchants  tVoin  tlie  intii'mr  to  tin;  rapilal,  fVe- 
(jiU'iitly  <'arri('<l  tVoiu  half  a  irinioi'  to  si'V^ral  niilHon 
(lollai's  in  coin  and  hullion.  These  ti'iiins  wnv 
licavily  •jfuanh'd  l)y  soldiers,  and  witli  thfuitho  nn  i- 
cliants  and  tlu'ir  tainiht-s  tiavi-lKd  in  and  from  tlm 
lartje  cities.  AVitli  tlie  advent  of  tin;  railroads  and 
cx))rcss  companies  all  this  has  hecome  a  thini^  of  thu 
j)ast,  and  with  the  custom  has  nrono  the  i)ros|»crlty  of 
many  of  the  interior  towns  whoso  liAi  depended  on  the 
tiadc  of  these  caravans.  In  conipinsati(»n,  the  railroad 
huUds  new  towns  and  develojts  fresh  industries. 

The  way-stations  hetween  the  towns  are  the  char- 
acteristic haciendas  every  now  and  then  eneounteicd, 
and  consistinix  sometimes  of  a  lar'j'e  adohe  dwelliii"- 
and  outhouses,  surrounded  hy  a  whitewashed  wall, 
and  sometimes  of  the  wall  and  small  huildin^s  without 
the  lari^e  dwellini^,  with  usually  a  muddy  artificial 
lake,  fed  hy  the  rains  and  drahuiLie,  with  milky,  nuiddy, 
li'ny,  slimy  water,  and  also  a  well  and  ])ump,  worked 
hy  mule  or  man  power,  or  a  lar^e,  S(juare  tank  of  ma- 
sonry, to  which  the  water  is  conducted  hy  an  under- 
ground acjueduct.  Some  hacienda  huildinL;'s  present  a 
^ery  palatial  ap})earance  ;  instance  those  of  Hacienda 
de  J^ocasofthe  Farias  hrothers,  eleven  lea-jues  from 
San  Tiuis  Potosi,  which  is  valued  at  half  a  million  d<tl- 
lars,  has  000  retainers,  jjlants  1,000  hushels  of  wheat 
and  -'{,000  of  corn,  and  has  had  expended  in  aitesian- 
well  experiments  $200,000. 

On  the  northern  central  tahle-land,  the  corn  is  usu- 
allv  small  and  poorlv  cultivated.  In  other  hteallties 
farmui}^  is  hetter  done,  the  rich  plantations  attaininj^ 
hi^h  culture,  and  the  natives  })resentinn'  a  hetter  ap- 
pearance. Yet  we  see,  in  most  instances,  the  same 
primitive  ploughs  of  wood  drawn  by  oxen,  the  yoke 
tied  to  the  horns.  With  one  hand  the  plouuhman 
htilds  the  phtui^h,  which  has  but  one  handle,  while  in 
the  other  liaud  is  a  long  goad.     This  fashion  prevails 


■J'f 
I'. 


[!;i 


r 
1 1>'  ■ 

|! 

I 

i". 


712 


EXrEDITIOXS  TO  MEXKO 


also  witli  tlic  American  j)l()u<i^1is  now  widely  ilisplariiiuf 
tlie  native,  for  all  arc  pn^t'erred  nuule  with  one  handle. 
What,  indeed,  is  the  use  of  two  handles,  when  one 
answers  every  purpose  i 

Nearly  everytliini;"  is  done  in  pairs.  Sometimes  one 
jK-rson  is  sent  to  watch  another,  sometimes  to  lielp. 
Women  n'o  usually  hi  pairs.  On  the  stages  are  two 
drivers,  and  I  have  seen  on  the  cars  two  conductors, 
one  taking  the  tickets  while  the  other  checked  them 
off.  ^Een  and  nmles  are  cheap  m  this  country,  and 
women  also,  but  they  seem  to  get  things  mixed  a  little 
For  often  is  seen  the  man  doing  the  mule's  work,  and 
the  woman  taking  the  man's  task  ;  and  too  often,  in- 
deed, man,  woman,  and  muh!  all  dohig  nothing. 

The  city  of  ^lexico  is  the  ]*arls  of  America.  Al- 
though ensconced  in  the  heart  of  the  country,  it  is 
less  ^Mexican  in  typt*  than  might  be  expi'cted,  owing 
to  the  elforts  of  thi^  early  Spanish  viceroys,  as  well  a- 
to  tlio  concentration  there  of  a  society  largely  trained 
by  resideiK^e  and  travel  in  ICurojte. 

It  has  been  subject  to  the  most  rcMnarkablecliangcs 
of  a  natural  as  well  as  of  a  social  *Mid  political  charac 
ter.  Once  it  was  the  Venice  ot  the  continent,  I'li 
throned  out  in  the  lake,  while  at  a  respectful  distaiu  r 
swept  the  slu'ltering  circle  of  fori'st-crowned  knolls 
and  <j:reen  meadows,  studdc^d  with  tributarv  settlements 
that  }teeped  in  gleaming  whiteness  out  of  their  garden 
foliage. 

The  im[>erial  courts  of  the  ^Fontezumas  lent  tin  ir 
splend(»r,  swelled  by  the  partly  eidorced  presence  o\' 
cacicpies  and  nobles  from  all  ]»arts,  with  their  liost  of 
retaiiurs  and  their  ]»alatial  rosldenceson  rising  terraces 
with  colonnades,  battleuiented  parapets,  stucco  a<loiii- 
meiits,  and  hanging  gardens.  Ai-ound  spread  the 
dwiiliings  of  traders,  artisans,  and  serfs,  to  the  numbei' 
of  GO, 000,  ecpiivalent  to  a  ])oj)ulation  of  300,000,  and 
covering  an  area  never  since  e([ualled. 

(finals  crossed  the  city  in  ev^ery  direction,  teemi;i  r 
with  market  c«,noes  and  statelv  barues.     On  uala  ihr,  - 


THE  I'Al'ITAL  CITY. 


713 


the  lak«!  itsolf  swarinod  witli  p'll^nins  and  ploasuiv- 
srrkcis,  t's[»c'('ially  to  witness  tlic  imposing  t'crenionics 
at  the  many  tcniolts,  raised  liiLjli  above  the  dwellin<'s 
of  mortals  upon  lofty  pyrann'ds,  A[»propriat(»  sta'j,es 
M'ei'e  there  to  heighten  the  etteet  of  mystic  I'ltes.  ;ind 
lend  additional  liorror  to  the  innnolatlon  of  liuman 
heinijfs  upon  the  saeritieial  stone  ;  while  priests  in  ^(n'- 
gcous  })aijjeantry  circled  with  chant  and  smoking  cen- 
sers round  the  ascendinjjr  i>ath  of  the  hu"'e  iiedestal. 

And  niglit  veiled  not  the  enchantment,  for  ett'nial 
vestal  fires  shone  from  eveiy  summit,  and  humhler 
tributaries  flickered  below  from  light-houses  and  strci  t 
beacons  to  jjuido  the  travelk^r  and  call  devout  atten- 
tion  to  the  sacred  abode  of  deities,  retlrcted  also  in  the 
starry  sky  and  peaceful  waters  of  the  lak(>. 

Wliither  has  ilown  tliis  splendor?  Everywhere  now 
we  meet  the  withering  as  well  as  renewing  iiiHueiice 
of  a  iu>w  civilization  :  in  the  defectiv(^  drainage  system 
for  the  lakes,  which  has  left  unsightly  marshes  instead 
of  green  swards  to  fringe  theii'  evej'-nariowing  ex- 
panse; in  the  wanton  «.lestruction  of  forests  which 
covered  the  hills  and  shaded  the  settlements ;  in  the 
razing  of  ancient  structures  and  outlying  subuibs  1»y 
( ;irly  conquerors;  and  hi  the  ravages  of  later  ci\il 
wars. 

Now  the  city  lies  at  some  distance  from  tlie  lake, 
with  xuvvo.  traces  of  its  waters  in  the  few  canals,  and 
in  disfiguring  moats  before  the  n>mnants  of  frowning 
walls  and  ram[)ai'ts.  Canals  have  giv(Mi  way  to  roads, 
with  here  and  there  a  shad\' avenue  ;  the  solid  i>vvani- 

t  1       L 

idal  temples  to  turrets,  domes,  and  spiivs.  which 
slielter  saintly  images  and  pale  tapirs  hi  lieu  (»f  grim 
iluitzilopochtli  an<l  ilaniing  brasiers,  and  with  clang- 
ing bells  drown  the  di'cad  notes  of  the  famed  ''j'l  po- 
nastli.  Terraced  and  garden-covered  palaces  have 
y ieUU'd  befon;  the  less  romantic  struct uns  of  mores( pie, 
got  hie,  and  renaissance  styles. 

The  sidits  in  and  about  the  capital  are  numerous 
and  interestui'j:.     Besides  the  L;()vernment  palace,  re- 


t  'i;  i{ 


714 


EXrEDlTIOXS  TO  MEXICO. 


built  from  tlic  ancient  structure  represented  above, 
occupying  two  blocks  with  immense  coiirts,  and  mak- 
ing u[)  in  extent  and  solidity  what  it  lacks  in  style  of 
architecture,  thcue  are  the  cathedral,  which,  from  an 
architectural  })oint  of  view,  is  considered  by  some  the 
finest  in  America,  the  libraries,  the  museum,  the  art 
galleries,  the  school  of  mines,  and  the  many  other  in- 
dustrial, religious,  and  benevolent  institutioiis,  the  '//)- 
calo,  or  government  i)Iaza,  with  a  fine  stand  for  the 
nuisiclans  in  the  centre,  surrounded  by  trees,  shrubs, 
and  ilowers  in  profusion.     On  the  east  is  the  palace, 
on  the  north  the  grand  cathedral,  on  the  west  are  com- 
mercial houses,  and  on  the  south  the  offices  of  the 
numici[)al  government.    The  zocalo  is  often  illuminated 
at  night,  and  there  the  best  bands  play  and  the  elitv 
of  the  city  })romeiiade.     There  are  also  the  alamed.M, 
a  bt'autiful  foot-juirk,  ten  acres  in  extent,  with  shady 
walks  and  bowers,  fountains  si)arklini;  at  everv  turn, 
and  towering  trees  sliading  all  from  the  heat  of  the 
sun;  the  race-track,  the  bull-ring,  and  at  a  little  dis- 
tance, the  Guadalupe  and  Loreto  shrines,  the  fioatim; 
gardens,  and   famed  Clia]»ultepec,  the  residence  suc- 
cessively of  Aztec  monarchs,  Si)anish   viceroys,  and 
]\rt!xicaii  presidents,  a  castle  on  a  liill  rising   out   et' 
tlie  dense  forest,  approached  by  the  Pasi'o  do  la  Vu 
forma,  the  drive  of  ]\[exico.     Many  strange  scen(  s 
these    venerable   cypresses   have  witnessed;    lilstorv 
unwritten  and  nev(.'r  to  be  known  of  aboriginal  wais. 
of  statecraft    and    priestcraft,    of    love-makings    and 
merry-makings,  for    these   trees  were  hoary,  and  tit' 
heavy,  fiowing  beard  when  Quauhtemotzin  was  born, 
thouuh  still  viu'orous  now,  and  of  majestic  mien. 

While  the  citv  of  Mexico  Is  well  laid  out,  tl  > 
stnM'ts  for  the  most  part  being  straight  and  regular, 
so  tliat  from  one  [loint  can  be  si'cn  the  hills  bonh'rhij, 
either  side  of  the  valley,  they  are  peculiarly  named 
and  nmnbered,  a  change  occurring  sometimes  at  evtiv 
block.  Occasionally  the  same  name  is  retained  foi'  ;i 
longer  distance,  when  the  several  bk)cks  are  designatt  d. 


GENERAL  FEATURES  OF  THE  CITY. 


715 


for  instance,  as  piiincra  calle  do  San  Francisco,  ^n'- 
^unda  calle  de  San  Francisco,  etc.  .Vl)out  tlie  old 
church  and  plaza  of  Santo  Doiningo,  the  site  of  the 
dread  Incjuisition  buildinij;,  is  noticeahlo  what  a  liold 
tilt!  name  has  on  the  vicinitv.  There  arc  not  oiilv 
])rnnei'a,  se}i;unda,  and  terci-ra  Santo  Doinin;j,i).  l)ut 
I'ucrta  falsa  de  Santo  Doniinjiio,  or  False  iL;*ate  of  Santo 
])i)niinL:;<)  street,  and  Cerca  de  Santo  i)onnngo,  or 
Near  Su,- to  Doniini^^o  street. 

]^ut  tins  will  soon  he  chanLTcd.  Already  thcv  have 
widened  Into  a  l)eautiful  av'enue  the  thoroni;hfare  I'un- 
iiin:^  from  the  cathedral  to  the  ojKia-house,  !j,ivin^-  it 
tlie  one  name,  calle  del  Cinco  de  Mayo,  or  Fifth  of 
^NFav  street,  a  standing:  comi)liment  t(t  (General  Diaz 

ft/  '  ~  I- 

and  the  iLjallant  soldiers  under  him  for  the  defeat  of 
the  French  before  Fuehla  in  18G2. 


'  Iv 


Almost  evcrv  one  on  first  cominix  t^  the  caiiital  falls 
ill.  The  chani^'e  is  so  i^reat  that  some  part  of  tlie  sys- 
trm  is  sure  to  he  aifected  hy  it  in  u;reater  or  less  de- 
cree. Even  natives  of  the  city,  returning!,"  after  an 
al)senc(\  have  chills  and  fever,  or  some  other  trouble. 
The  air  of  the  city  is  thin,  and  in  places  bad,  and  the 
climate  essentially  treacherous.  The  houses,  with 
tlieir  thick  walls  and  solid  masonry  and  stoiu^  floors 
and  Inner  courts,  are  cool,  often  cold;  the  sim  is  ti'ojt- 
ieal  and  its  rays  ]»enetratin;4'.  In  passing;"  from  tlit> 
house  to  the  sunshine  and  back  the  chann'e  is  great, 
and  care  must  be  taken  of  the  throat  and  lungs. 

The  city  is  lower  than  several  of  the  lakes,  arn!  in 
digging  anywhere  three  or  four  feet  through  tli'- 
U[t[)er  strata  of  century  debris  and  mouldeiing  A/tee 
remains,  water  is  reached.  This  Sj)ongiiii  .s  is  a  eom- 
inon  feature  of  the  ujiland  valleys.  'I'here  an;  in  som(> 
loealities  stygian  smells,  which  wouh'  Infect  tlie  entii'e 
<ity  did  they  not  rise  so  quickly  and  pass  away  in 
the  thin,  pure  air  without-  as  tlu;  theory  goes— as  to 
lirevent  s]>reading.  Still,  the  city  is  nut  considered 
uidiealthy. 


,lii 

m 


•'t-      I 


irt 


716 


EXPEDITIONS  TO  MEXICO. 


ll 


During' winter  tlu^  strorts  of  tlio  capital  caro  covered 
witli  a  fine  dust,  and  railway  tiavcl  is  as  l)ad  as  in  tlic 
T^aitcd  States  in  sunuiicr.  'I'lie  (Tniiate  of  tlx'  eitydf 
]Mexieo  is  very  like  tliat  of  San  Fraiieiseo,  with  tlic 
St  asous  reversed,  and  leaving  out  the  fogs  of  the  latter 
l)lacc.  Thus,  in  ^rcxlco  the  rainy  season  is  in  the 
suuuner  and  tho  dry  season  hi  the  winter,  with  winds 
coiTes] bonding  to  the  sunnner  whids  of  San  b'raneisco. 
The  teniperature  varies  but  slightly  during  the  rainy 
and  dry  seasons. 

The  <|Uestion  of  draining  the  valhy  lias  been  di>- 
eussed  for  two  centuries  or  more,  and  much  work 
has  already  b(>en  done.  It  Avill  some  day  be  finished, 
and  when  cleanliness  shall  be  adiletl,  the  city  of 
IVIexico  will  be  one  of  the  healthiest  capitals  in  the 
world. 

There  is  always  more  or  less  danger  to  foreigners 
from  yellow-fever  on  either  seaboard;  though  (hiring 
the  winter  months  with  proper  care  the  risk  is  re- 
duced to  a  minimum. 

ISinall-pox  is  common  in  greater  or  less  degree  at 
all  seasons  throughout  most  i)arts  of  tin;  republic,  sm 
that  strangers  coining  in  cannot  l)e  too  careful  with 
regard  to  vaccination.  The  multitude  of  scarred 
faces  one  everywhere  sees  tells  the  story. 

There  are  feast-davs  and  religious  holidavs  without 
r'ud  ;  and  if  not  a  curse,  they  are  at  least  a  nuisance. 
Why  take  so  much  (tf  this  world's  litth?  sj)an  of  tun" 
for  the  next  world's  ail'airs,  with  its  eternity  for  their 
arrangement:'  Most  of  the  shops,  (ixcept  those  ef 
the  l)arber,  the  grocer,  the  dram-seller,  and  the  fooil 
dispenser,  close  on  such  oc(asi<»ns,  as  well  as  on  Sun 
day,  and  even  the  street  stan<l  is  withdrawn  at  tW" 
or  three  o'clock,  while  tlu;  venders  of  fruits,  dulces. 
and  trinkets.  In  the  ])la/as  and  market-places,  pr«»s< 
cute  their  calling  till  dusk  or  far  into  tlu?  night. 

Yet  the  po<»r  people  do  not  suffer  from  an  excess  ef 
religion.  They  indeed  ajtpear  to  (K-rlve  great  com- 
fort i'runi  it ;  and  it  is  doubtful  if  uuun'  of  them  wouM 


RUM  ANT)  RELIGION. 


717 


l>o  l)pttcr  employed  were  there  no  such  eelebratloiis  ; 
lit  all  eventH,  they  are  ready  to  enijjloy  any  excuse  to 
escape  from  labor.  Kveu  courtesans,  gamblers,  and 
]iiu,liwaymcn  stay  their  course  for  a  moment  to  (lii'fct 
a  player  and  dc\'oti;  an  oll'crin^j;,  though  their  objett 
may  he  d()ul>tful.  'i'lien  the  day  is  so  lia]»})ily  ]iel[)ed 
out  bv  druik  and  the  bull  or  cock  fi'j,]it.  J^etween 
reliiijion  and  morality  there  seems  to  be  sli^dit  con- 
nection; and  thouu'li  great  crowds,  drunk  with  ])ukjue, 
gathi>r  in  and  round  tlie  chuivlies  and  tliroiig  the 
streets,  there  is  seldom  any  quarrelling,  or  e\ en  bois- 
terous talk.  The  police  arc  strict  in  their  watch,  and 
lie  who  creates  a  disturbance  is  quickly  arrested  anil 
marclied  off  to  jail,  tliis  promptness  of  punishment 
exercising  a  most  healtliv  influence  also  on  that  class 
f  fovi'igners  which  frequents  bar-rooms  and  indulges 


o 


ni  her 


drhikt 


o 


The  hotel  accommodations  in  the  city  of  jMexii 
are  good  of  their  kind,  but  the  travelled  stranger  will 
not  like  them.  The  rooms  as  a  rule  are  too  cold  and 
<'lieerless,  and  the  restaurant  m(ithod  of  having  your 
f  lod  served  is  not  the  most  attractive  for  Americiii 


IS. 


who  are  accustomed  to  the  best  ]i(»tels  in  the  world, 
liooms  in  the  best  hotels  can  be  obtained  at  from  two 
to    four   dollars  a   dav,  with  a  nduction  foi'  lontier 


(tccupajicy.  In  a  })rivate  fiimily  fnrnishetl  rooms  rent 
.It  from  twenty  to  thirty  dollars  a  month.  There  are 
plenty  of  unfurnished  rooms  and  houses  to  rent,  but 
tiirniture  is  scarce  and  ex])ensive.  There  are  iin(^  o])- 
portunities  for  establishing  in  ^rexico  first-<'lass  hotels 
Oil  the  American  plan,  and  in  <'ertain  country  towns 
liist-class  hotels  may  be  fouiul  with  rates  for  room 
;uid  board  at  from  two  to  tlire(>  dollars  a  day.  The 
Ituildings  shouhl  be  constructed  of  brick,  stone,  and 
iion,  with  bay-windows  and  ornaments,  with  ventila- 
lion,  elevators,  firi']>laccs,  bath-rooms,  and  all  tho 
latest  improvemeiits.  Such  establish  nents,  properly 
conducted,  are  iimch  needed,  and  would  |>ay  well  i;i 
the  capital  if  not   iu    other   places.     Till    thtu   the 


I- 

111:11 


II. 


718 


EXrEDlTION.S  TO  MEXICO. 


transient  dwcllor  must  sufTor  discomfort  and  bo  o\- 
posed  to  tlic  outra*jfeous  extortions  of  restaurateurs. 
The  best  procedure  is  to  bar«j;ain  to  be  fed  after  the 
desired  mode  for  so  mucli  a  month,  inrhid'mij;  everv- 
thiii!^;  tlien  if  not  more  tlian  twenty -five  ]>er  cent  bi; 
added  to  the  agreed  price  for  ])retended  additions 
and  variations,  one  may  rest  satisfied. 

Tlie  Mexicans  of  tlio  better  class  have  adopted  tln' 
European  stylo  oflivinjjj:  the  ^/r.s'a?/?/?/o  consistinu'  (tf 
coffee  or  chocolate  on  risin*jf,  after  which  horsebiick 
ridinjj; ;  (tlnnirrzo,  or  breakfast,  usually  between  iiiii'' 
and  twt>lve,  equivalent  to  a  full  dinner  in  some  coun- 
tries, with  a  <jfreat  variety  of  dishes  from  soup  to 
dessert,  with  wine  and  cigars,  to  be  followed  by  ])r<t- 
fessional  duties;  conn'da,  or  dimier,  from  two  to  f'oui', 
and  aft(>r  this  the  fticsfa,  less  observed  in  the  cajiit;;] 
than  formerly,  and  wholly  unnecessary,  though  usu;illy 
observed  on  the  table-land.  Then  the  ladies  ]ia\ c  ;i. 
rncricmh,  or  luncheon,  from  four  to  six,  in  which  tlic 
men,  who  are  supposed  to  be  at  business,  do  not  in- 
dulge. Last  of  all  is  the  cnm,  or  supper,  from  eight 
to  cloven.  Professional  men  close  their  offic<^s  at  si?<; 
then  after  supi>er  stroll  In  tlie  })laza  or  call  on  friends, 
and  after  chocolate  and  cigars,  retire. 

])escen(ling  the  scale  of  wealth  and  refinement  to 
a  conunoner  class,  the  cooking  becomes  more  ^lexlcan. 
until  tortillas  supply  the  jilace  of  bread,  and  puhjuc 
supplants  even  the  chea[)  vile  stuff  of  the  country 
calh'd  wine.  Proba])ly  fruit  comes  first  as  tlie  shijile 
food  of  the  poor;  ])articularly  the  tuiiu^  or  cactus  fiuit, 
which  is  ])alatable  and  wholesome,  and  after  th;it 
corn,  beans,  with  now  and  then  eggs  and  goat's  nuiit. 

In  manv  wavs  they  produce  conntarativelv  <jreat 
results  from  small  means,  which  is  the  higliot 
achi(n(>ment  of  science.  For  example,  Inthelrcookn  \ , 
with  a  bit  of  meat  and  a  few  vegetables,  two  or  thn c 
earthen  pots  and  a  handful  of  charcoal,  they  will 
mak(i  up  for  the  table  half  a  dozen  dishes  which  may 
Ijo  pronounced  excellent. 


Th< 

althot 

lowlai 

oxcepi 

of  orai 

the  di: 

is  rem 

Me> 

at  the 

is  usUt'i 

less  t] 

cliangc 

Nati 

arc  coi 

gradua 

good  p 

cities  1( 

avoid  t; 

country 

distant 

tlie  pur 

an  e(jii; 

Afexico 

Fron 

is  an  ex 

I'llant  n 

iiitlier. 

take  off 

and    hii 

embrace 

other  an 

kisses  tl 

going  th 

kiss  thei 

the  strct 

.'Miotlier. 

taiict^  is 

\vith  up]] 

lingers. 


SIOITEY  AND  MANNERS. 


?19 


The  markets  upon  the  table-land  arc  attractive  ; 
although  tropical  fruits  and  other  products  of  the 
lowlands  are  not  what  a  stranger  e.\[H'cts  to  find, 
excepting  the  delicious  phieapjiles  and  certain  kinds 
of  oranges  ;  but  drop  down  to  the  tierra  caliciitc,  and 
the  difference,  not  only  in  the  fruits  but  in  the  p(H)[)le, 
is  remarkable. 

Mexican  money,  consisting  of  bank  notes  and  silver 
at  the  capital,  and  away  from  there  of  silver  chiefly, 
is  usually  rated  at  from  twelve  to  eighteen  per  cent 
less  than  American  mon(\y,  which  con  readily  be 
chanued.     There  is  little  oold  in  circulation. 

National  bank  notes  and  Monte  do  Piedad  pap(>r 
are  coming  into  general  use  about  the  caj)ital,  and 
gradually  spreading  ni  the  country.  On  the  border 
good  paper  money  is  rare;  but  betwecMi  most  inland 
cities  local  bills  of  exchange  can  be  brought,  so  as  to 
avoid  the  risk  and  trouble  of  carrying  sliver  over  tin; 
country.  A  person  making  an  extensive  tour  tliroU'.;li 
distant  parts,  however,  must  still  have  a  mule  to  cm  ny 
the  purse.  Exchange  on  Xe'W  York  or  Ijondon  Ibr 
an  equal  amount  of  silver  commands  in  the  city  of 
Mexico  a  large  premium. 

From  the  highest  to  the  lowest  of  the  !^^exicans  tin  re 
is  an  extreme  politeness  which  soon  permeates  tlie  less 
]il'iant  nature  of  their  northern  neighbors  on  coming 
hither.  I  have  even  seen  a  Yankee  railway  conductor 
take  off  his  hat  in  speaking  to  a  Mexican  passenger, 
and  him  of  no  extraordinary  quality.  IMeii  often 
embrace  on  nu>eting,  each  putting  his  arm  round  the 
other  and  patting  his  back;  and  the  youth  occasionally 
kisses  the  hand  of  the  elder,  who  rises  while  under- 
"•oin*T  the  ci-remony.  On  meetinii"  and  i>artin'4',  hulles 
kiss  their  vei-y  dear  friends  on  both  cheeks,  and  on 
the  street  there  is  no  end  of  finger-wiggling  one  to 
another.  This  latter  mode  of  recognition  at  a  dis- 
tance is  likewise  indulged  hi  by  the  men,  and  consists, 
AN  1th  uplifted  hand,  of  plying  vigorously  the  two  middle 
lingers. 


720 


KXrKDITIONS  TO  MEXUO. 


Tlic  roro])tl()ii-r<)()m  In  every  liouac  of  pretensions, 
and  in  pul)lie  otHces,  has  a  sofa,  with  rug  in  front,  and 
at  either  cud  chairs,  placed  at  rii^ht  angles  to  it. 
otlier  chairs  being  ranged  ahout  the  room.  This,  as 
in  (Germany,  is  the;  place  of  honor,  to  which  on  entei- 
ing  the  guest  is  howed,  the  host  seating  himself  in 
one  of  the  chairs  at  the  side.  Ladies  receive  in  tin- 
same  way.  Fashionahlo  people  would  as  soon  thinl; 
of  getting  along  without  a  hf)us;i  as  without  a  sofa. 

On  taking"  vour  dei)arture  after  a  visit  you  make 
vour  adieus.  The  host  then  follows  you  to  the  top  of 
the  stairs — for  the  n>ceptiou  and  drawing  rooms  arr 
usually  on  the  second  floor — where  IniKta  lucfjo  is  said 
a''ain.  As  you  turn  the  corner  in  descendiiiij  the 
stairs  to  the  ct»urt,  you  for  the  third  time  l)ow  and 
rnise  your  hat,  the  ladies  again  repeating  their  adieus. 
In  beckoning  for  a  person  to  come  to  them,  they 
move  tli(^  hand  downward  and  outward,  lnst(>ad  of 
toward  themselves,  as  connnon  among  Anglo-Saxon 
races.  If  you  are  of  the  gentler  sex,  the  host,  ofl'ei- 
ing  his  arm,  escorts  you  di  wn  the  stairs,  and  to  the 
ni '^■er-absent  carriage. 

There  is  a  reason  for  all  things,  though  not  in  all 
things  is  there  reason. 

There  is  no  reason  in  women  going  barefoot  whiK' 
the  men  wear  sandals,  as  do  the  lowest  class  in  Mex- 
ico. The  reason  may  be  found  by  going  back  to  abo- 
riginal times,  when  the  men  as  lords  paramount 
tramped  the  forest  while  the  women  as  inferior  beings 
drudged  at  home. 

There  is  no  reason  in  the  ladies  of  the  capital  driv- 
ing to  the  alameda  at  precisely  six  o'clock  every  cveii- 
inu',  rain  or  shine,  often  permitthn;  a  maunificent  dav 
to  pass  by  without  fresh  air  or  sunshine,  and  then 
going  out  after  dark  to  get  neither.  Nature  has  lu  r 
moods,  though  usually  fixed  in  her  habits.  Fashion- 
able women  havi;  tlu'ir  ways,  whi(di  do  not  always  a(  - 
connnodate  themst^lves  to  the  ways  of  nature.  During 
the  months  of  October  and  November  there  is  m  tl' 


REASONLESS  REASON. 


721 


city  of  Mexico  a  roo;u]ar  fivc^  oVlork  shower.  All  tlic 
samo,  at  five  o'clock  the  woj-ld  of  fasliloii  must  turn 
out  of  their  houses  for  a  drive,  dowagers  and  damsels 
(jocliniujjj  all  otlier  exercise,  and  closeting  theniselv(>H  at 
liuino  until  from  inactivity  a  ])eculiar  anivmic  maladv 
results.     Th(!  reason  is  that  durinuf  former  trouhlous 


t  (■- 


linie.s  a  p;uai'd  was  placed  at  the  past>o  for  tlie  ]M«»t 
tion   of  healtli   and   pleasure   seekers,   and   the   liah'it. 
once  formed,  conunon  sense  has  not  heen  able  to  over- 


come 


it. 


There  is  no  reason  in  cmi>lovin*»'  men  to  do  the  work 
(if  donkevs,  drivin«»'  tliem  froui  the  sidewalk  into  tlie 
street  wliile  staL'',L;;erin;jj  under  hurdens  Avhich  mi'i^ht 
1  fetter  he  drawn  in  calls;  imp(»sinu;  ujion  human  he- 
ino's  work  which  would  almost  disijjrace  a  l>east,  and 
that  with  plenty  of  available  lieasts.  Yet  e\en  a 
cheap  Iturro  may  ])rol)r.hly  he  regarded  as  wortli  more 


than  th(i  man  at  no  markitahle  val 


ue 


Tl 


lis  an( 


I  th 


lialf-starved,  half-naked  children,  sitthiL"'  or  slt'epinuf 
upon  the  cold  «lamp  stones  tliat  send  deadly  disease 
throuiL^h  their  poor  little  bodies,  are  amonj^tlie  sad(Ust 
sights  I  ever  belield.  Better  a  thousand  battles  and 
)Utcheries.  that  however  cruel  tei'minate  (juickly,  tlian 


this  h 


oni4-urawn  ajjjony  oi    mans    (lee[)   t 


f 


del 


>asement. 


K(»r  the  reason  here  we  must  i»o  liack  to  aboi-i;j;inal 
times,  when  there  were  no  beasts  of  burden  <»n  this 


no 


rthern    continent.      Under  tl 


le  successive  admiiii? 


t rations  wlilch  followed  tliose  of  the  Montezumas,  tli(^ 
descendants  of  the  carriers,  liavin<if  found  nothinLC 
hetter  to  do,  nuist  continue  to  carrv  till  the  end  of 
time,  despite  the  prcscnc(^  of  h<»rses  and  donkeys,  and 
steam  and   iron,   unless   benevolent   men    force   them 


111 


to  other  channels  of  labor. 


Take  not  too  nuich  uncti<»n  to  your  soul  at  a  per- 
son's tellinj^  you  that  his  house  is  yours,  that  he  and 
ill  his  are  at  y<tur  full  and  free  disposal,  tliat  he  kis.ses 

ur  hand  and  kisses  y(»ur  feet,  and  will  livi;  for  you 
die  at  your  ]»leasur( 


\(i 


111' 


for  1 


le  wi 


•11   k 


nows,  and  vou 


)uld  know,  that  he  would  do  nothins>'  of  the  kind. 


I.IT.    INI 


46. 


i 


'"I 


ir '  i 


itj  1 


t'jr 


i\i 


m 


722 


KXT'EHTTrOXS  TO  MEXICO. 


Considor  tlio  many  nu>aniu<jrl<'ss  forms  amonijf  otlu  r 
nations,  which  are  tlie  nlicH  of  by-jMrf)nc  a^cs,  when 
socictv  was  ri<jj<>r()uslv  separated  into  castes  and 
classes,  masters  and  servants,  lords  and  soifs,  when 
stj'an<j;ers  were  scarce  and  suspicious  personau'es,  and 
tlie  visits  of  fi'i'iids  were  few,  and  take  not  litcni'ly 
wliat  »vv  inteiidi'd  merely  as  polite  expressions,  in- 
dicative; of  |j;ood-will  and  fiiendly  feelino-. 

Tliere  is  no  reason  in  i;oin<;  <tut  of  one's  wav  to 
make  one's  self  uncomfoitaljle.  A  prejudice  pi'evails 
amoni;'  Mexicans  of  all  classes  ajjjainst  artificial  heat 
in  houses.  There  are  prohahly  fewer  stoves  of  any 
kind  than  pianos  in  ISIexico  to-day.  The  walls,  lithrr 
of  adobe,  brick,  or  stone,  are  so  thick  that  the  Inteiior 
is  cooler  in  sunnner  than  the  atmos])here  witliout,  and 
warmer  in  winter.  Yet  u])on  the  hii;h  table-land  the 
houses  in  winter  arc  not  comfortable;  but  rather  than 
liave  a  tire  the  occupants  will  shiver  the  cold  niontlis 
throu;j,h,  because,  tluy  say,  the  air,  already  rarefied  by 
altitude,  deterictrates  when  further  rarefied  by  heat. 
When  absolutely  necessary  to  heat  a  room,  a  brasicr 
with  charcoal  is  used.  The  assertion  is  not  ]>rove(I. 
liowever,  either  by  this  line  of  reasoninuj  or  by  i'X]ie- 
rience.  It  has  never  bei-n  shown  that  for  purposes  of 
n'spiration  it  is  worse  to  warm  the  air  on  the  toj)  ot' 
a  mountain  than  to  warm  that  at  the  base.  The  thlii 
air  when  made  thinner  by  the  sun  in  sunnner  is  still 
liealthful;  but  the  superstiti<m  remains.  And  I 
notice  that  ^Nfexicans  on  passinn^  from  an  inner  room 
into  the  open  air  often  pause  for  a  few  moments  in  ;i!i 
ante-room,  so  that  tlie  chanj^e  niay  not  be  too  suddt  n. 
A  Lsitors  are  warned  ajijainst  a  (/oljx'dcl  airr — l)low  from 
the  air — in  goinij^  from  the  darkened  interior  into  tjic 
stron'jf  liuht  of  the  street,  manv  receiving  injurv  to 
the  eyes  by  so  doinjj^.  It  is  common  to  see  [)ersoiis 
walking  the  streets  with  a  handkercliief  over  tlio 
uiouth. 


The  bullfight  still  obtains,  except  in  places  where 


AMUsr.MKXTS. 


723 


tlio  nutlioritios  Imvo  readied  tlio  ronc'insinn  tlint  a 
slau^litcr-liousii  with  Its  cluap  «lis|)l;iy  of  l)rav»  ly  In 
tawdry  colors  amidst  tlio  Ix  llowiii'Li's  (»t' a  hull  as  it 
^ori'S  to  death  a  tni-dollar  horse  i»  imt  the  most  iii- 
tolleetiiid  or  retliied  of  Sunday  occii|)ati(iiis.  or  the  hi-st 
means  of  raising'  funds  for  ehaiitahle  ]iur|ioses,  even 
if  directed  1)V  the   mayor  and   i>resided   over   hy  the 


governor. 


The  drama  has  often  heeii  enrourai;ed  Ijy  the  l;<>^  - 
crnment.  no  less  than  twenty  thousand  dolhirs  !•<  uiLf 
«*onti'il)uted  to  supiMtrt  the  theatre  hi  1S.';I--J,  and 
again  during  the  rules  of  Santa  Anna  and  Maximilian. 

The  ^Fexicans  are  natural  musicians.  I']very  mili- 
tary com[)any  and  eveiy  town  has  its  hand,  t»r  seveial 
of  tliem,  whose  niemhers  have  never  had  regular  in- 
struction. The  son  ]>icks  u|)  something  from  the 
father,  anil  the  leader  does  the  icst,  the  I'esult  heiii';- 
very  satisfactory,  tilling  the  thousands  of  ]ila/as  with 
sweet  music  all  through  tlu'  soft  troi>ical  exening.s. 
Their  specialty  is  the  dance-nmsic,  with  its  W(  ir<l, 
rhythmic  moxcment,  ])layed  in  ])erfect  time  jiiid  tune. 
Till'  Mexican  ear  is  remarkal)ly  correct,  and  althou;.;li 
for  tlu^  most  }>art  untaught,  their  umsical  tasti;  and 
instinct  are  uut-rrintif. 

The  ^lexican  nuisician,  though  not  wholly  mortal, 
is  still  suhject  to  the  tVailties  of  mortals.  Fond  of  his 
jtuhjuo,  and  in  need  of  constant  refrt  shment  to  keep 
him  U[)  to  the  ins[tiied  pitch,  he  sonu'times  ind>ibes 
too  freely,  and  one  of  the  over-ready  suhstitutes  has 
to  be  called,  while  the  overcome  pei-former  lies  down 
on  the  Hoor,  and  slumbers  peaci^fully,  revelry  still 
mingling  wltli  his  tlreanis. 

The  natit)nal  dance,  the  danza,  taking  the  jilace  of 
the  more  pronounced  Cuban  h<ih<iii(r(t,  has  a  slow, 
swaying  movement,  coidbrming  well  to  the  nmsic. 
^lexican  songs  partake  of  the  same  character,  oftin 
with  the  danza  movement  runnhig  through  them.  In 
fact,  the  nmsic  of  the  ^fexicans  isas  in<livl(lual  in  its  way 
as  that  of  the  Neapolitan  airs  or  German  V'olkslieder. 


I'i 


;!;:? 
W- 


lit 


T-M  KWRDITIONS  TO  ^rF,Xr^O. 

A  sttikiiii^  fcaturi'  is  its  iiirlaiiclioly  strniti.  FiViii 
tilt'  s(ii)ij;s  niid  sircct  cries  n\u\  strains  of  ljiu;^lit<-r  aiv 
in  a  miiiof  key.  ListiTi  t<»  i\\v  ])laiMtivc  voice  of  tlie 
))(>()jile  ill  coiiimou  conversation,  ainl  you  would  iiii- 
atiiiie  tlieiii  in  cont'ei'i'iice  oN'er  a  (Kill""'  c<»nira(U'l 

Tljo  A[exiran  s4anil)les  upon  instinct,  if  such  a  term 
lias  any  meaning:;.  II*-  lias  in  liiin  su|ierstition  enough 
to  l)elle\(!  in  luck;  lie  will  n(»t  work;  lie  fVe<|uently  is 
Hon^ly  in  need  of  money;  liow  else  is  lie  to  net  it  ^ 

Notwitiistandiiin  tlie  laws  exlstiiiii^  in  the  ca|iital, 
there  is  nanildhi'L?  foi'  all  trades,  tahles  on  which  iiotli- 
iui^  l)ut  co|»ner  is  seen,  other's  of  silver  with  some 
;^old,  and  still  others  where  L?<'ld  al(»ne  is  us«'d,  the 
lowest  liet  here  allowed  l)ein<j,'  an  ounce. 

A  law  of  ISlIH  closed  many  of  the  eainl»lin<4-houses, 
thnnviiiii  many  profis.slonal  ^amhlers  out  of  employ- 
nn'ut  iind  dej>i'ivin;j;  thousands  of  thtlr  accustoiiieil 
aniusciiient.  1'he  proceedinijj  showed  at  once  the 
material  stn^ijjjth  of  the  ujovernment  ahle  to  (>nforce 
so  unpopular  a  measure,  and  tin;  moral  streir^th  of 
till!  rulers,  who  helieved  i^amhlln*^  to  he  iiii(juitous 
and  pernicious.  Ncverth<dess,  tlit'  Inliei-ent  and  old- 
tinit!  passion  was  not  thus  to  bi'  quenched.  As  in 
relij^lon.  thero  was  much  comfort  in  it.  So  the  fol- 
lowin^j;"  year  we  find  written:  "From  the  highest  to 
th(3  lowest,  all  <jjand»lo;  and  it  is  no  uncommon  thiiii;' 
to  see  the  senators,  and  even  hi^lu'r  officers,  in  the 
cockpit  or  at  the  L^ianiln^-tahle  hettin*^  and  stakinu' 
their  money  against  the  half-clothed  laborer."  INIeas- 
ures  have  since  be<'n  fnMjuently  taken  to  diminish  the 
evil,  but  with  little  ett'ect. 

In  some  countries  the  business  of  })awid)roker  is 
deemed  di.s^raoi'ful  as  well  as  [lernieious;  but  in  Mex- 
ico it  is,  under  government  auspices,  a  source  of  ojov 
ernment  revenue,  and  the  manaijement  of  the  Monte 
de  Piedad,  as  it  is  called,  is  confided  to  a  pei-son  of 
the  first  inteijfrity.  It  receives  whatever  effects  the 
poor  people  can  bring,  loans  them  a  large  percentage 


I'AUN.SIIOl'S  AM)  (..\Ml'.MN(i. 


723 


of  tluir  vjilut',  uidI  cliMr'^c's  ii  sin;ill  pci-ctiito'^o  for  tlio 
use  nf  ili(!  iiKMifV  wliiii  tlif  luiiii  is  jLiid.  It'  alliiNVt'd 
ti>  ifiiunii  iiiii'cdcfincd  t'oi"  six  iiioiitlis  tlif  i  tlirts  aii' 
tlit'ii  sold  at  inictii>ii.  ii  saK-  takiii:;^'  |ilacr  t\iiv  iiiniitli. 
'I'ln'  iiistitiitioii  is  lai'^i'ly  pat loni/rd  l'\  the  Inwrr 
classes,  and  the  <'stal)lisliiiiriils  air  iinliid  \i  iitalilf 
cui'iosity  slioj)s.  It  lias  Wraiiclirs  all  unci-  tin'  i<'|iid»- 
lic,  and  dots  also  a  Itaidxiii;^  and  iaokfia^c  l)ii>int  ss, 
(owirKJi  iin]iiilsc  was  oImii  l»y  tlic  coid'uscd  state  of 
tlie  laws  tVoni  colonial  times  coneeiiiin'4"  |iro|Hi'tv  and 
colIecti(»n  of  del)ts.  It  may  l»e  an  instil ntl'in  ot'  the 
greatest  beneficence,  as  declared;  liut  it'  tlieie  \vert( 
sa\  ini^s  hanks  a  rare  tlnn^  in  Mexiio  and  the  jieo- 
|)le  Were  tau-^iit  to  |>ati'oni/-e  tliein,  i»a\vn!irokeis  uould 

lie  less  needed.       So  witll    Petard  to  lotteries,   ot'wiiiell 

tliei'e  iiw  hotli  state  and  nat ional.  and  I'roni  whieli  the 
^•o\■el•nment  derives  revenue,  "^riiey  are  no  douht 
Well  mana;4»'d ;  hut  with  less  oamhlini;'  and  more 
lahoi',  it  miijjht  ho  i>etter  for  the  ^'ovei'nment,  or  at 
least  for  the  commonwealth.  Visitois  ar^'  aeeosted 
at  every  turn  hv  ticket  venders,  who  iiniuiri',  I  )o  \  ou 
not  wish  ten  thousand  dollars  this  afternoon  .'  If  you 
,<uoo,.st  that  the  seller  imi>rove  the  o|>|ioi t imitv  to 
henelit  himself,  he  takes  it  «>ood  huuioredlv,  and  turns 
to  the  next  intended  victim. 

Female  beauty  seems  to  he  distributed  by  section.s. 
In  some  parts  of  the  re]iubli<-  attractive  younif  women 
abound,  mestizas  as  a  I'ule  liaN'in'j,  better  fejitui'es  than 
the  Indians,  and  beiuL;"  more  robust  than  tlh'  ereoles  ; 
in  other  parts  there  ai'e  scaieely  any  who,  even  Ity 
courtesy,  can  be  called  beautiful  <»nly  little  ^iils 
from  ei;j,lit  to  twelve,  then  little  old  wriid<le(l  mothers 
fiom  thirteen  to  twenty-fi\ c,  and  after  that  old  women, 
almost  if  not  (juite  erandniothers.  ]"Jut  an  attractive 
timidity  stamps  all  the  maidens,  and  e\en  the  boys, 
w 


hlch  1 

N 


far  into  maturitv 


o 


lii>'h 


jfers 
twithstandinuj  women  are  so  i>lentiful.  wives  are 


d 


M 


m 


i-prieed  m   Mexico,  and   so  the  jioor  often  ^o  un- 
Lirried.     Fur  a  marriaue  license  the  ^lexieau  laborer 


'j:  It 


'^"4:'M 


T-'i; 


KXl'KIHTIONS  TO  MEXTCO. 


iiuist  ;j,iv('  from  five  to  fifttnii  dollars,  equivalent  to 
tlic  liard  saviii'>s  of  several  months,  and  have  a  ijod- 
fatlier.  Willie  civil  marrin<«(^  has  heen  made  leoal, 
so  that  jxxtr  ])eo])le  mii^lit  marry  without  jjjreat  cost,  so 
<levftted  are  the  lower  classes,  t^s|)ecially  the  women, 
to  the  church,  that  they  consider  no  marriajj,e  hettm' 
tli;in  one  not  solenmi/A-d  hy  the  priest,  wh(»,  as  a  I'ule, 
charu'es  for  his  services  as  much  as  tln^  means  of  the 
jtjuticipants  aihnit.  Better  lettliem  marry  fre(^ly  and 
chi';i|>ly.  and  so  raise  the  standard  of  morality  ;  the 
clerical  revenue  will  not  suffer. 

]\leNic;m  love-makin;^,  althouijh  very  pretty  find 
roniaiitie.  would  not  he  at  all  satisfxinijf  to  the  10n"lisli 
or  American  idea  of  tlu'  fitnc^ss  I'f  thini;s.  L'(i)ii!<ir 
Id  riisii,  that  is.  to  patrol  the  house,  is  a  favorite  mmv 
of  showing;'  affection.  The  admirer  of  a  seiioritn.  elah- 
oi'ati'l\-  arr.'ivt'd  in  his  hest,  presents  himself,  mounted 
oil  a  mustaiiLij.  which,  unless  fieiy  hy  iiatui'e.  is  made 
1<>  prance  with  j^reat  spirit  hy  due  mani}iulation  of  tin 
cruel  M(\\ican  hit.  Tie  rides  up  and  down  hefore  her 
halcony.  where  she  is  stationed  at  a  ct>rtidn  houi-  for 
tliejiurpose.  occasionally  dashiiijj;'  furiously  hy,  and  then 
suddenly  pulling'  up  short,  throwiii'jf  the  horse  hack 
on  his  hiiunches.  'I'his  niiiiieuvre  is  repeated  until 
tile  i-ecipieiit  <»rtlH^  delicate  HaTtc^rv  di'i;4'ns  to  cast  nii 
a]»|>i'oviiii^'  iLilance  on  her  ndor-er.  ( )r  the  love-sick 
youth  will  stand  patiently  for  hours,  t;dkiiiM-  with  his 
iiiaiiioiata  tliroUL';h  the  iron-harred  windows,  if  per 
chance  for  reward  he  may  toueh  ills  lips  to  tlu>  tips  of 
her  tinv  tin''-ers.  and  will  stand  for  hours  on  the  side 

\\k  opposite.  na/in;4'  at  the  window  where  the  fair 
lie  ouulit  to  he,  hut  alas!  oftentimes  is  not.  Some 
times  flowers,  or  even  notes,  ar-e  thrown  u|>  to  her.  or 
her  waitln^-maid  is  hi-ihed  to  transport  tlu^  connnuni- 
cation.  \  co<»l  pair  of  lovers  it  nmst  Iw  who  cannot 
keep  at  least  one  confidejitial  servant  thus  employ 


w 


o 


eti 


But 


\  man  onlv  too  (»ften   does  no 


t  ohti 


im  or  set 


k  th 


entree  to  her  father's  house  until   he  <»;oes  as   her  ac 
cepted  lover,  and  then  only  meets  his  tiaucce  iu  com 


AUTISTIC  IXDUSTUTKS. 


7-27 


juinv  with  luT  far.iilv,  iii'Vcr  a  tcU'-a-totc  l)v  tlM^n- 
selves.  Till'  ofi'ci'  is  usviallv  luudc  tliinu''li  tlii'  nit'dia- 
tioii  of  a  friend,  the  suitor  not  appi-arliiLij  on  the  scene 
until  all  pi'eliniinari(  s  are  arraiij^'ed.  '{'lie  duena, 
h.owcvcr,  never  abates  her  restraining  wateh  u[)on 
them  until  the  niarria<j;e-day. 

Tilt  ]»oor  Work-Woman,  in  eity  and  country,  will 
carrv  lu'r  child  with  lur  all  d;iv,  however  hea\ilv 
t;iskrd  or  huidcnod.  The  chiMren  arc  oft  •n  stunted 
in  tlicir  ijji'owtli,  if  not  actually  deformed,  i>y  the  un- 
natuial  ])ositions  in  wliidi  tlicy  are  hoiiie. 

The  Alexican  housewife,  whether  slie  he  hi,L;h  <  r 
low,  ;j,lories  in  an  extensivi'  stock  of  ilishes,  althounh 
too  often  she  lias  little  t()  |>ut  into  them.  I  have  seen 
i.i  on(^  place  the  walls  tliiekly  covered  witli  <hei;|' 
jiotterv,  and  in  another  euphoards  stored  wjtliathou 
sand  superfluous  pieces  with  eilt  rim  and  nioiKMiaui. 
J']arthenware  of  a  soft  red  clay  is  made,  especially  at 
Ciuadalupc!  and  CJuadalajara,  hut  i]\r.  hest  ware  come-^ 
from  (Aiautitlan,  and  he  who  hrin;^s  and  sells  it  is  an 
oHo'o.     The  ty|te  usually  is  ]»ure  Indian. 

Stran'L!;ers,  on  the  otlier  hand,  patroni/.e  the  s<  Ihr 
of  clay  li'j.ures,  n^presentiuL;"  tyju  s  from  all  handicrafts 
with  no  litthi  ]>lastic  skill  and  admirahle  ehdxu'at ion. 


At  several  points,  hut  iiotahly  at  !San  J*edro,  near 
(Juadalajara,  tlu^.  Indian^  .xerci.-je  eiciit  .skill  in  takiiijj, 
likenesses,  (Mthcr  hy  sittinijjs  or  fi'om  ])lioto!4raplis. 
The  work  is  done  ei.tirely  hy  the  eye,  no  measure- 
ments h(>ini^  taken,  and  ihc  material  em|iloyed  is  a 
peculiar  oily  clay  of  <lark   color",    wlTuh    when    haked 


turns  a  lighter  h 


ue 


11 


ia\e  Seen  an   una'-e  ma( 


I.'   1 


)\ 


Pantaleon  l^anduro,  a  full-hl(»oded  Indian,  iVom  a 
ph<)t(';.(ra)>h,  which,  consld(iiii<r  thattim  artist  nevt  r 
saw  the  orii^inal,  is  a  remarkahle  likeness,  and  sliow  s 
j;reat  artistic  skill.  Amon-j;  the  nati\es  special  fi^^uit  s 
are  in  demand  for  dilferent  occasions,  in  comu-ction 
with  religions  eelehi'ations. 

Feather-work  also  is  a  specialty  in    which  tlu'  [nd 


1  '< 


:-2H 


KXI'KDITIONS  TO  MEXICO. 


i!P 


Hfi 


iaiis  oxcol.     Tli(!V  not  only  produco   exact  iinltatioiis 
«»f  tlio   tcatluaT(l   triUcs   wliicli    inluil)it   tlic   countrv, 


llloUll 


ted 


m    n 


■lief 


oil    Ciirdhoai 


(I.    l>ut    also    inaki 


wicatlis,  and  iiitrirati;  drsii^ns  in  dlU'cniit  colored 
tl'atlK'rs,  priMluciiiL^  wonderful  results. 

The  jilastic  artists  also  manipulate  wax  and  a  va- 
riety of  stones  with  L^reat  suecoss. 

The  tecali  niarhU^  near  I'uehla  is  woiked  into  forms 
of  fruits,  fislies,  and  slahs  f()r  tahles  and  hureaus.  A 
hv'j-i'  industrv,  which  would  soon  <>ain  a  world-wide 
rc|>utalion,  mii;'ht  lier"<'  he  l)uilt  up.  for  the  tecali  mar- 
hlr.  hcsides  ht'inn'  peculiar,  is  sometimes  very  hcaut'i- 
f;il.  h'eatlier-work  and  u,<)ld  and  silver  ornaments  ar<' 
anion;j;  the  many  artistic  industries  datin;j,'  hefore  the 
e()iii|Uest.  Then  there  aie  ojtals,  shell-work.  ]>earls, 
coral,  and  lava  ornaments,  the  shawls  of  ( Juanajuato. 


le  s.ulules   o 


f  1 


tl 

San  Jjuls  L\)tosi. 


jcon. 


tl 


le  liorn-work    aiK 


11 


ome  manu 


fact 


ures  are  mc 


leed 


I    rel 


leh 


»( >/(  >s   < » 


nwu'e  widely  spreat 


d 


throu'^hout  the  ri'puhlic  than  may  lu"  hiia'^iiied   fioi 


n 


a  mere  <»iaiic( 


at  tl 


le  minoi 


t  lists.     S 


ome  liave  a  err 


tain  fame,  e\t  n  if  limited  in  extent,  and  others  sup- 
ply the  wants  of  ten  million  inhahitanls  ;  such  as  the 
Several  score  of  cotton  and  twist  mills  with  an  a,vera;j,e 
invested  capital  of  nearly  a  million  dollars  ftr  each  ; 
Woollen  factories  with  an  annual  out})ut  of  ahout  five 
million  doUai's,  or  one  fourth   of  the  precedin*^ ;  silk 


tactovies    which  thirtv   Ncan 


;\'S<)  a 


head 


V   nuiiii-errd 


tweiity-one;  papei'-mills  -which  a  <piarter  of  a  cen- 
tury ago  Were  ]»l•oducill^;•  papei'  worth  six  million 
<lollars  ;  tvu  iron-woi-Us  were  then  \  ie|dln<r  at  tlie  rate 


)f 


or  a(?vcn  ana  a 


half  million   dollars  unnualK'  ;  and 


so 


along  the  list,   till    we    reacli   }ilano   factories,   two   in 


numhei 


The    loW(  r  or<l<  rs  ai'e  divided  into    multitudin 


ous 


trad*'  distinctions,  each  ha\  ing  to  some  extent  its  own 
peculiar  di'ess  and  customs.  For  instaine,  there  are 
i]\r  h</f(  ilrros;  or  woodeti-tray  sellers;  the  /n 'iit<  ro,  or 
scUer  of  reed   nrits   at  a  medio  apiece,  l)r(,)Ught  from 


STllKKT  flUES. 


7J9 


4  i 


Xofliinilloo,  near  tlio  canal,  and  usoil  by  very  poor 
people  as  beds,  twenty  of  tlicin  in  a  slfe[)*m;^-r, tom 
soinetinies  ;  t]\c  jdiiirm  tn-  hird-ea;^^  selici- ;  {]\{'.  <'<i)ln- 
r^')v;8  or  sicN'e  Seller;  the  caiidslrros,  i)v  basket  sellers, 
beiiijx  f'<»r  tlie  most  ])art  ofjiure  Indian  blood;  and  many 
otliers  of  till-  same  ilass,  avIio  manufacture  articles 
and  cai'iy  tli(>iii  from  town  to  town  in  ]iu;4c  loads  on 
tht'ir  bacls's,  niamifieturin;j;  and  sclliir^  as  they  ^-o. 
Then  there  r.re  t!ie  rnhr:rrnx,  who  ci'v  "(}ood  heads 


o 


f  si 


leep 


hot 


•ii'jj    the  street;  the  ('(if<f<r<>,    ^vhl 


kootis  fi  ei >li'ee-sta r.d  ;  the  rr/rro,  oi-  cnndle  sellei- ;  tl 


'II I  ( 


>ops 

rr/77i 


le 


ir<i,  er 


hard 


wai-e  ])edlei' ;  the  In) 


)'')'(>,   who    sells 


Ih 


iiitestines  to  h-  ll'lled   With  sausa'^e  inent  ;    tlie  II 


ijh 


iiiiK  ni. 


or  cliieken 


l.'r 


th 


10  rsciitx  I'd,  or   hrooin-corn  si 


tlie  itcri  I'lK  or  ice-cream  seller;  the  ni'iii/i  ijiii  ri>,  oi-  lard 


<'arrier 


th 


l/r 


feediuLT  to  bii'(b 


le  jin'iiio'o,  or  Seller  or  |iir!i.  a  red  iieriv   tor 


Th 


1  til 


lere  ai'e  men  who  s])en(i  tlieir   ii\es  lii   ^atherin'^ 


■ticLi    to    tnake  charcoal;   they   are   called   h  inuh 


I  n  s 


ind  Ar/.s7//v /v.'.s'.  oi' woni<  II  who  collect  van: 


Tl 


lese  ail! 


other    \enders    are 


not   s[ 


iariii'>'   o 


f  t 


leir     \-olce     With 


uhich    to  allure   ( iistoiiiers.      Tin' 
their  hivdiiilt  I'll,  or  washerwoman,  a 


lower   class    have 
s  Well  as  the  up|ier 


X  >/< ), 


class;  sht^  of  the  foiMiier  wears  a  hat  o\er  liei-  rel 
while  the  other  ■Li'oi-s   bareheaded.      There   is  a  j^dod 
^^•ulkee  steam  laundry  now  in  thi'  capital. 

poor  Judas  1  After  haviirj;  been  done  to  death  .-o 
lonij;  au'o,  his  soul  is  not  allowed  rest  to  this  i]i\\.  (  >n 
ihe  Saturday  which  follows  (  b>od  Friday  ni  holy-week, 
little  imaL^es  of   fantastic  shapes  with   heads  of  men, 


(levil 


and  nnimal 


.11 


111     \er\' 


.III,!; 


IS  as  iK 


now  at  diU'erent  times,  and  containiirj,' |ioW(ier 


are  SI 'Id 


aitoi 


it  the  streets  hy  tlie  judi  m,  and   liun;^'   up  in 


:ii; 


li.ilconies,  or  s 


truii'j;  across  the  street.  Thel'e  are  elli- 
■^ies  la,r;^'er,  six  or  ei.;!:t,  feet  hi'^li,  br<tU'.;lit  out  by 
those  who  Mish  to  ^i\t' th«^  traitor  pai'ticiilar  ]  anl-h- 


ilt.       At  ten   o'clock   at   ni  jht,  wliile  the   c 


ihvd 


"11  is  strikiiiLij  the  hour,  lire  is  set.  (o  these  ima'^esall 
ver  the  citv  ;  and  the  noist,"  of  the  barkiu'^;  of  doufs, 


|r 


730 


KXi  -;i)ITir)XS  TO  MEXICO. 


and  the  sliakinur  of  t]i(>  rattles  sold  hy  the  wafrarjiKrun 
to  friL»"htou  th<'  di'\il  away,  is  I'liou^h  to  make  the  uii- 
]ia|)])y  «i;host  uo  forth  uiid  hanuT  itself  aiifw. 

Tlie  street  cries  have  not  varied  inuch  for  a  ociitiirv 
or  two.  Ill  passln^C  from  the  aljoi'iniiial  tou;;"ue  tlie 
tone  hecame  somewhat  ehaii'jjeil  ;  hut  al!  tliroii'di  t]\o. 
ju.'riod  of  Sjianlsh  domination,  and  even  totlu;  pr*  sent 
day,  tl.i-re  is  tlio  same  nioundul  soii^!;,  the  sanut  lon^' 
drawn  note  of  woo  terniinat'iii'j'  every  ei'v,  even  as  it 
struck  upon  the  ears  of  ^[ontezuma. 

.\11  tliroui^h  the  nij^ht,  in  the  chief  cities,  the  shrill, 
<loleful  whistle  of  the  policeman  is  h<'ai-d  every  (juar- 
ter  of  an  hour,  uivhiu'  notice  that  th-y  are  watchriil. 
I.'he  helaled  traveller  is  quite  likely  to  hear  the  chal- 
lenge, i^iUdi  I'd  f  who  ^'ocs  thei"e  i  from  the;  sentry- 
ho\  (»f  a  cuartel,  and  most  ])rom))rly  resjioiid,  Aiiih/a! 
a  friend  ;  and  if  further  (piestioned,  Domic  rirc!'  where 


do  VoU    MVt 


re] Mies  W 


ith   the  name  of  his  hotel. 


or 


room,  and  passes  on.      Unsatisfactory  replies  tend  ti 
Ml 


\c  <ruai'(i-iious( 


tl 

Ivirly  in    the    mornin;j;   the    jieople  are   astir,    th 
bv'inn'  tlu>  hest  part  of  the  dav  for  work  •   then  con 
the  noon   siesta,  and  the  short    aftiu'uoon  of  bushu 


K  S 


or 


V 


AXrr 


Th 


le  vendei's   alone   (»hserve   no  rispit 


All   day  loiiL^   from   dawn  till  dark    th(  if  diseoidan 
ij'e  heard  from  hundreds  of  throats— first  t!. 


Noices  J 


coalmen  s    ciirhcsiii-n-ii :  w 


I 


diieii    heiu'''    ti'anslated 


nilies  (•((rhi))i  sinur!  tlien  tlie  ni(Ui[i'iiu'-i-H!(i !  of  t!i 
hutternian  ;  iuul  c(r/,tiihiii  no !  from  tli«  seller  of  i;(>oi| 
salt  heef  And  now  hefoK  the  door  \A  heard  tli- 
jirolon^ed  and  melancholy  n(»te  of  a  woman,  /A 
rdio-o-o-o-d-n!  who.se  i»usiness  is  the  ])urchase  d 
kitchen  suet.  Another  shorter,  (|ui<'ker'  ccy  is  heaid. 
likewise  that  of  a  Woman  hi  shrill  so|)raHo,  who  1 
litlU'  hot  cukes  to  sell,  (I'nrd/ias  Jr  homo  <'<il/r)ifcs! 


\:i< 


Thus  the  <lay  we;irs  a,lon;jj  with    ever-fresh   \ari 
tions,  jterhaps  tVom  a  selhr  of  J*ueh|a  tnats,  and  fi 


Ui  aooii'jina 


1  J. 


w 


ledK 


r  in  Turkish  dress,  fresh  fi 


O'll 
'Oil! 


the  hol\    kind,   with   b<'ads  and   crosses  and  trink 


ever  Ji 

1  ask( 
Th-  .. 

tee!   li 
his  ow 
lie  woi 

Ask 

has  ;in 
kiiow . 
ally  .-UK 
if  you 
you  \\;i 
(or  if  V 
a-  mile 
Aswr! 

I  Me\i. 


SOMK  ClIAKAfTlTJSTirS. 


781 


ncn- 


niado  from   dw  crosses   of  all  tlio  saints,  not  to  j 
tion   nu)ul)orl('ss   hcj^-^ars  wlioso  only  c'a]»ltal  is  soni* 


tlcformitx'.     And  at  ail  tlnus  ni 


en,   wonH'i),  an 


IrJiiK 
(Ircn  of  .".ll  'grades  arc    scJlniL;'  lottcrv -rickets.      After 


f  h 


noon   tlic  men  or  jioncv-caUcs  an( 


dv 


d  el 


U'CSC. 


and   1 


lOlKV 


aj>[)i_'ar;  tlio  diilco  nion,  ( '(iniiiidos  dc  (sprniiu .'  huca- 
(lll/o  (Ic  cocii!  T<ir(i/I(ts (If  fiKijiidd!  come  oi\  toward 
nitilit;  tlu'n  nuts,  and  "  IJucks,  ()  my  son),  li^t 
ducks!"  There  are  nianv  more  ciii  s  tlian  tiicse, 
some  of  late  oriii'in,  though  th(!"neu'  dcvdnpnH  iit "' 
little  change's  the  native  Afexican   in    this    or    manv 


other  res[)e(•t^ 


^^' 


ienev(>r  a  I'aih'oad  tram   pulls  up 


at  a  station  it  is  immc(Hatcly  surrounded  hy  sellers  of 

■Ncrythuig  eatahleand  driid<al'l',  whose  haixl  ofcri< 

s    irritatiujj,'  to    those    not   disposed    to  look    on   t!: 


aniusuiL:;  side  o 


fit. 


Speakini;"  of  lying*  ^rcxicans  and  TJicre  are  fw  of 
tliem  wlio  are  not  [iroiicii'iit  in  the  ait  Uiy  man  1^'ri- 
(lav,  M'hoin  I  took    iVom  San    Fraiici 


SCO,    IS  dcsirvin''' 


(jf  sjiecial  mention.  Jie  diil  not  lii'  \\>r  ju-.  iit.  l>ut 
from  ]>rinciple.  I  thought  ('<i'ruti  a  g.i-.d  liar,  hut 
the  Italian  v.'as  a  novice  l)csi(!e  tliis  Mexican.      His 


niendacitv  took  the  dirci-tion  of  oinniscicr 


ce 


What- 


ever lie  W'lslu-d  to  i»e\\as;  wliatcM  r  1  w  i>lu(|  to  IviioW 
1  askt'd  him  tlicii  went  and  found  out  fni'  m\self 
The  governor  was  not  in  t«»wn   if  mv  fi'llow  did   not 


feel  1 


ike  gomg  ou 


t.     Or  if 


m\'  teilow  desired  time  for 


his  own   ])lcasui'<  .  iiotliliig  can  he  dt)ne  on  a  holiday, 
he  would  (leiiuiicly  ohserNc. 

Ask  the  a\('iage  .Mexican  anything,  and  h<'  always 
has  an  answer  ready;  there  is  nothing  he  does  not 
know.  He  will  spin  you  of'.' a  string  of  lies  as  natur- 
ally and  as  gracefuily  asa duck  lakes  to  wate;-.  And 
if  vou  are  wise,  V(»u  \\ill  keep  \()ur  temper;  and   if 

t,  t  III 


\( 


)U  want  anvtlilng  out  of  him.  j)retend  to  1 


M  l|e\  o   IliUl, 


lor  it  vou 


tell  him  1 


■s.  lie  i  >\\\\  shruirs  Ins 


diould 


i-r 


a--  nuich   as  to  say.  'AVIiat  ei.-e  could  you   expect  j" 
As  well  find  fault  with  a  mustang  tor  hucklng.  as  with 


M 


exiean 


for  1 


VIU' 


H'  U 


A 


,! 


!!  ; 


ni 


i     si 

iiii;  ?' 


) 


i  ^   .i^ 


732 


KXPEDITIONS  TO  MKXTCO. 


Tilt'  ^[cxic.'ins  luivo  a  \v;iy  of  ilicir  own  of  niaiiiftsf - 
ill'.;'  tlu-lr  «lispl(.'asiU'o.  Wliilc  I  uas  with  (u'iu'tal 
])ia/  one  day,  a  mrsHOJi^'cr  fiom  I'lcsidciit  (Joiizalcz 
caino  witli  tidliiLiS  of  a  r('>'olutioii  ou  tlu!  zocalo.  I 
]invc  often  oljsci'Vt'd  that  whcncvci' troulile  approach* ■<! 
(jrciioial  Diaz  was  sure  to  he  st-nt  for.  I  noti<fd  as  1 
entered  tlie  liouse  tliat  day  tliat  the  liorscs,  liarnessed 
to  the  carriaLif.  stootl  tied  in  tlie  stahh-  iv.idy  foi-  in- 
stant use.  In  h'ss  tliaii  one  minute  from  the  time  he 
received  n<»tice  from  tlie  picsidiiit,  with  a  hasty  apol- 
(>'>;v  to  nie.  (leiKial  Diaz  was  rollhi''-  o\Y  for  the  sei  iic 
of  actioii.  As  I  \\i»lked  down  the  street  fr.mi  hi.-> 
lloUSe  to  m\-  h(»tel.  1  foUlld  tlie  sidewalk  stri'Wed  witli 
j^lass,  the  shops  all  closed,  and  mounted  police  j^itrol- 
liii.;-  the  principal  aveiuu-s.  I'ltsently  I  nut  (Jeiieial 
Diaz  returirin<:;.  \\ho  laU'^hiii'^K'  took   iiie  into  his  car- 


I'iaj^e  and  hatk  to  his  house.      The  jioor  felhtws  in  th 
vicinitv  of  the  Z(icalo.  not  likiii'j,-  the  sliaxc  of  ei'^ht 


tell 


cents  on  the  dollar  which  the  nu 


th 


•kel   1 


or 


Ijusuu-ss  sui»- 


iected  them  to,  kiit^w  of  no  other  wav  of  manifcstin" 
their  displeasun;  than  ooiuoahout  the  streets  in  hands 
of  lift\'  or  one  hundred,  the  mounted  iiolice  maivhiii" 
after  them  hiaiidishiiij;'  their  drawn  swon's,  luit  iiol 
])reventin'4  the  mob  from  hreakin^- lamps  and  windows. 
It  is  iem,;rkal)l(  how  sotm  Americans  liviiiu'  in 
^fcKico  Ih'coiiu'  Mexican  in  many  of  their  ways.  The 
sharp,  ea;jer  look  of  the  typieal  N'ankee  is  soon  lost. 
liis  activity  and  energy  subside,  and  In-  sinks  into  the 
con.stitutional  repose  of  tie  Latin  race.  J>etweeii 
the  slu!j;'j,ish  I'^nnlishiiiaii  tir  the  stolid  (lerman  and 
tlie  ^[exicail  there  is  less  ditfel'en*  e  in    the  outset,  ItUl 


ill 


lie.se 


and  others  los     their  iiative  characteristic 


sooner  than  tliev  are  aware. 

Nor  is  it  altoinctlier  example  by  which  this  chan^ 
is  wrought;  they  are  forced  to  it  in  a  ^rcat  measmv 
by  <Tniiate  and  custom.      If  on  the  tabledand,  thc\ 
mu.st  niode)-ate  their  natural  pace,  ascend  tliehts  (•!' 
stairs  slowly  and  with  measured  tread,  while  in  lower 
latitudes  tliev  mast  keep  out  of  the  sun.      Tliev  can 


A  VERY  SLOW  rKOl'LK. 


733 


transact  no  business  duiiiiij;  tluMiuiiiy  ploasuro-liciiis 
niul  f'cast-chiNs  tlic;  Mc.vicaii  el  looses  t<»  absent  liiiusi  If; 
wiiilo  the  native  takes  his  siesta,  the  forei^iuT  must 
tiit  and  wait.  .Vniid  tlies(^  and  siniihir  new  coiKntlons 
tlic  man  becomes  new;  lie  learns  to  take  life  easy,  to 
]»rocrastinate,  to  fail  in  his  appointments,  t«)  s])eak 
smooth  Wiirds  without  meaning-,  and  finally,  to  become 
projiclent  in  all  the  \  ices  of  the  !M((xiean  without  «b- 
S()rblnL>'  a  corresixtndiiiiL^  (juota  of  his  virtues.  Thouuh 
the  .^b'xicans  have  paid  their  money  to  brin;^'  the 
('hinaman  to  their  door,  thev  lia\e  never  vet  bou"ht 
his  pro\<'ib,  wliieh  atlirms  that  for'  him  who  does 
<"Ver\thin;:-  in  its  jtroper  time,  one  day  is  worth  three, 
liather.  tlie  ^bxican  mi'«ht  sav,  if  one  dav  is  worth 
nothing,  what  is  the  value  (tf  three  ^ 

( )n  tlie  whole,  after  liavini''  s;nd  manv  fine  words 
about  the  AK\\i(  ans,  havini;  tiiou;j,ht  well  oftliem  and 
become  fjjreatly  interested  in  them,  working-  in  their 
intei'ests  as  few  amone;  their  own  numixreN.  rworketb 
r  must  admit  that  tlicy  are  not  exactlv  what  1  wish 
tlieywere;  tliiy  are  not  a  humaji  article  of  whi(  li  f 
should  be  very  proud  were  I  a  world-maker. 

First  of  all,  1  would  makt;  them  better-lookini;'  on 
the  outside.  What  is  tlie  use  of  eumbel'ino;  the  earth 
with  such  an  ill-visa^cd  race,  all  that  iscKark  and  uejy 
in  the  S[»amavd  and  Indian  united''  Their  fornis  are 
well  i'noU!4li  wliere  devehijud  by  Work  and  hokhiijj 
their  heads  elect,  but  their  faces,  in  \duth  ruddv  and 

b  t. 

tiabby  oi'  pale  and  smister,  assume  the  aspect  of  dri^d 
t'^bacco  leaves. 

On  reachinjj;  the  city  of  ]\re\ieo,  I  took  U]i  my 
Muarters  at  the  hotel  Iturbide,  where  1  reniaiiu-il  fbur 
•iionths,  ransackiirj;  the  city,  and  niakinj;'  excursions 
!M  various  directions. 

I  had  letters  of  introduction,  and  beinij!;  desirous  of 

>  ein;j,'  and   l(•arnin^•  all  1  could  and   makinn'  the  niost 

'!"  mv  time  amoni;-  a  notoriouslv  slow,  formal,  and  con- 


•ntioual  pet)j 


)le,  I  at  uni'e  sent  them  out,  rc(|Uesting 


li 


734 


KXI'KOITIONs  TO  MEXICO. 


tlio  rc('i|tk'iit  to  iiaiiK!  time  and  |>la('e  for  an  intt-nlcw. 
"  I  cannot  sec  why  you  want  to  maku  tlie  a<'(juuin- 
tanco  of  tlu'so  |)t.'o[tl(',"  sai«i  Mor<.!;an,  tlio  American 
minister,  to  mo  one  day.  "If  it  is  to  be  entertained 
by  tliem,  you  will  be  disai)|»ointed.  Here  am  I  these 
tliree  or  four  years  re|tresentin«;  tlit!  qreat  American 
republic,  and  tliey  ]tay  not  the  sliLjIitest  attention  to 
me.  Asidt^  from  otticial  inter'coui'se  with  the  ministei- 
of  forei;j,n  relations,  tiiere  is  nothing;  between  us. 
When  1  «'anie,  tlie  chief  otHcials  called  when  I  was 
out  and  left  their  card  ;  I  retuined  the  call  when  tiny 
were  out  and  left  mv  card,  and  that  was  the  end  of 

it." 

"  Afv  dear  sir,"  I  said,  "  it  is  th(^  last  thiui;  on  earth 
I    desire — to   be   entertained   b\'   these  or  anv   oilier' 
jteople.      I  come  to  Mexico  for  a  far  ditfe!'ent  |iur|tos('. 
Still,  if  I  am  so  let  alone  as  to  feel  slighted,  it  will  h( 
for  th(>  lirst  time  in  mv  life." 

The  fact  is,  ^fr  jNTorgan  could  not  understand  what 
it  was  I  wanted   in  ^lexico;  nevertheless,  he  was  al 
wavs  cordial  and  acconnnodatin«'\ 

For  about  two  weeks  my  time  was  chieflv  occuiiied 
in  making  and  riH-eiving  calh.  One  of  the  first  to 
\  isit  me  was  Ygna<'io  M.  vMtaniirano,  one  of  thechii  f 
literaiy  men  in  ^^exico,  who  boasts  his  j)ure  A'/Art- 
blood  uncoMtaminated  b\' anv  I*]uvoi)ean  inti'rmixturt , 
In  form  he  is  w»  11  j)ro[H)i'tioned,  a  little  below  medium 
height,  featuics  clear-cut  and  of  pronounced  ty|M  . 
bright,  black  evi'S,  and  skin  not  verv  tiark,  intellii  t. 
brilliant,  and  tongue  fluent  of  s])eech. 

Ahamirano  di\i(le(l  the  leading  literary  honors  eC 
the  capital  with  Alfri'do  Ciiavero,  who  was  also  (juitf 
talented.  Altamirano  wrote  for  La  fj'hrrtdil,  Iji  Iv- 
jHihlica,  and  AY  Dhtrio  thl  JI<ii/(ir ;  any  paper  was  glid 
to  oet  an\tliiii"'  from  Chave''o,  Tlies(>  men  showi d 
uie  every  attention,  and  introduced  uie  to  the  Miem 
bi'rs  of  the  Sociedad  de  (nHxrrafia  v  Kstati'stica,  at  a 
meeting  called  s[»ecially  for  that  par[>ose. 

Another  very  agreeable  //7/(r(//no' was  Irenco  Pa/, 


memV)ei 
which  ] 
on  the 
honor  t 
reviewi 
Most 
Mexico 
meut. 
howi've 
(iarci'a 
fered  ii?'' 
Lor  res  i 
free  an( 
Senor  7 
features 
hold   in 
me  to  1 
wi'nt  ou 
I  fom 
and  edit 
niodi'st  ( 
know  hi 
Indeei 
seeming 
I  camiot 
not  the  i 
de.se  rve. 
and  arist 
with  a  li 
other  re  I 
sword  of 
<|uisiti()n 
founding 
time  of 
worksho] 
great  tlili 
ranging, 
I   met 


anoriLTma 


LlTKllAllV  MKX. 


7:t.-. 


n 


iucmber  c»f  conorcss,  and  ])i(»prii't()r  of  La  Pah'iit, 
wliU'h  luiH  a  (lailv,  and  an  illustiatt-d  wcrklv  edition, 
on  tho  front  paufc  of  wliicli  Scnor  I*az  <lid  nie  tlu' 
lioiior  to]>la('e  my  portrait,  with  a  Ifio^rapliical  notice, 
ri'vifwing  my  books  in  tlu;  otlier  edition. 

Most  of  tlie  Icadinu;  journals  and  journalists  In 
Mc^'xii'o  aro  under  tlie  inmiediatc  i)iiv  of  the  •••overn- 
ment.  There  has  aKva\s  heen  one  notal>le  exception, 
however,  in  AV  Monitor  J!( inihliaint),  of  wliieh  A'ieente 
(iarci'a  'I'oires  was  [»ro|)rii'tor.  The  ^overmnent  of- 
fered !i?;)jO  a  month  to  this  joui'nal  ;is  suhsidx',  hut 
Torres  thought  he  could  do  Itetter  ti»  keep  liims<'lf 
free  and  independent.  Ih-  was  a  shrewd  old  I'ellow, 
Senor  Torrtiti,  Leinj^  ahout  seventy,  with  shar|>,  uri/./.ly 
features,  and  a  man  whose  kind  sei'viees  I  shall  ever 
hold  in  'grateful  remend)r;mee.  ^for^an  iiitrodudd 
UK!  to  him.  and  besides  olhriniL''  me  his  columns,  lu; 
went  out  of  liis  way  to  j^atl-'r  material  for  me. 

I  found  in  !''raiieiM(;  Sosa,  author  of  several  works, 
and  editor  of  /-'/  NdciotKil,  a  man  of  talents,  of  all'Mhle 
modest  demeanor,  sut'h  as  makis  a  stranger  wis] i  tt* 
know  hiui  further. 

Indeed,  I  initso  many,  who  treated  me  so  eor-dially, 
seeming  ^>  count  it  a  })leasure  to  ser\t^  me,  lliat  whiiu 
I  eaimot  pass  them  hy  without  mentioi>,  I  still  have 
not  the  space  to  dcvoto  to  them  which  their  mci'its 
deserve,  ^riiere  was  N'iceiitc  lliva  l*alacio.  of  ati  old 
and  aristocrati(  familx,  occupvin<j;  a  palatial  residence, 
with  a  line  library,  and  many  su[)i'rl)  Maximilian  and 
other  relics,  such  as  the  cliair  (»f  Hidalgct,  and  the 
sword  of  Mina.  llei'e  were  the  archiNcs  of  till'  In- 
quisition, in  iifty-four  manuscript  volumes,  tVom  tiie 
founding  of  the  institution  in  ^lexico  in  l."i7i>,  to  the 
time  of  Inde})en(k'nce,  say  I  S  1  4.  His  jiouse  was  a 
workshop  like  niv  librarv.  tlie  owner  exercising 
Lircat  tliligenee,with  men  about  him  extracting,  ar- 
ranging, and  condensing  matei'ial  for  his  use. 

I  uu't  Amador  Chimalpopoca,  one  of  tlu'  race  of 
aboriginal  rulers,  one  uiLjht  at  the  ro(^ms  of  the  geo- 


l!-  i-> 


n 


736 


KXrKDITTONT^  TO  MEXICO. 


j»;v!i]>] ileal  soricty.  Native  American  iiitclli  ^ciiec, 
uMIity,  ln'aiii  jiower,  Ljeiiius.  or  wliatever  it  may  l)e 
eallrd,  is  a})|>areuily  no  whit  l)eliiii(l  Hie  European 
ai-ti<-lc. 

On  anotlier  orrasion  I  cneoimtered  a  mr.ii  no  les« 
remarkal>lc  In  anotlii'r  ilireet  Ion,  J.  I'].  llrrnandt'Z  y 
]).ivalos,  wlio  fi»r  tliirty-one  years  liad  Ixen  collcciin"4" 
from  all  ]>arts  of  tli»^  country,  !^^cxico,  ^fi;  lioacan, 
('li'iliualiua,  Jalisco,  Oajaca,,  and  elscwJic-.c,  documents 
relative  to  tlie  war  of  Indt'|»cndenc(%  and  from  tliat 
time  to  tlie  Fivncli  war.  He  states  that  lie  eo|>icd 
evcrvtlihi'''  iclatini''  to  tlic  sul>icct  out  of  tlie  IJildio- 
teca  National,  and  liad  two  copyists  In  the  National 
Archives  for  four  vears.  lie  was  a  poor  man  holdiii"' 
Some  inferior  government  position  with  a  small  salai-y: 
hut  out  of  it  he  suppoitc-d  his  family  and  acliicNcd 
this  «i;rcat  work,  whiK;  lilL^h  otticials  stole  millions  and 
(hd  nothlii''; — not  a  sinu;le  self-<lcnvin'ji:  or  iiraiscworthv 
act  for  tlii'ir  country.  Ilernande/  y  ]);ivalos  \n;is 
often  promised  i;o\(riiment  aid,  hut  jj,(»ver'nnient  olli- 
cials  here,  as  elsewhere,  are  too  prone  to  promisi"  witli 
no  Intention  of  keepinir  their  word.  In  fact  ]\Ie.\i- 
c-ans,  of  ]\i'jf]\  or  low  deojreo,  arc  not  ri'inarkahlo  for 
their  reliahility.  In  1870  this  man  had  a  little  ci^ar 
factory  in  tlie  calle  de  Dontorihio,  worth  .^700,  the 
profits  from  which  gave  himself  and  family  a  fair 
sujjport.  Ho  had  already  in  his  possession  many 
precious  ])a])ers,  when  along  came  one  mor(>  valualde 
than  them  all.  It  was  ri'gaiding  Hidalgo,  and  was 
oli'ered  to  him  for  J^'J.")!).  J^ut  where  was  tlie  money 
to  come  from  i  lie  felt  that  he  could  not  let  sh^)  from 
his  grasp  so  ))riceless  a  treasure,  hut  this  was  a  huge 
amount  for  him  to  raise.  H(^  tri(\l  in  vain  to  borrow 
it ;  Hidalgo's  paper  v.'as  worth  less  in  tlie  market  than 
that  of  any  pulque-seller.  At  last  ho  actuall}-  sold  out 
his  huslness  in  order  to  secure  tliis  document.  Wliat 
would  l)icome  of  tlu'  wise  and  wealthy  of  this  world 
were  there  no  enthusiasts  or  fools  1  At  this  time, 
1883,  six  large  volumes  of  these  documents  had  been 


sri'KItsTiTION. 


7:i7 


]»ritit<Ml  l>y  TLiiuiikIcz  v  IMvalos,  jhmI  700  suWrilKTs 
ohtaiiK'd  ;  hut  unluckily,  a  paper  advcise  to  tlic 
rlianictcr  of  the  vii'i;iu  oi'  Guadalupe  Hllppfd  in,  and 
straightway  tlie  sul>scrii>tion  list  dropjicd  down  to 
llfty.  Men  liavo  Ixh'ii  innnortali/cd,  M'itli  piles  of 
masonry  erected  to  tlieir  lion«)r,  for  far  less  heiirjifs  lo 
tlieh"  countiT  than  those  conferred  hy  tliis  p.tov 
cigarniaker 

No  small  commotion  this  sanin  virgin  of  (j}uadalui>e 
lias  made  in  Mexico  first  and  last.  .Tier  shrine  is  at 
a  small  town  not  far  from  Mexico  city,  (luadahqu- 
I  f idalgo,  a  place  of  som<!  political  fam(%  the  treaty 
with  the  United  States  concluding  the  war  of  I84<) 
and  transfer  of  California,  aujong  other  things,  having 
hocn  done  thiM-e.  It  was  here,  if  we  may  helieve  tlu; 
holy  men  who  have  written  volumes  on  the  suhject, 
that  the  virgin  appeared  to  the  poor  Indian,  Juan 
J)iego,  impruiting  her  imago  in  his  hlaid^et,  that  the 
al)origines  of  Ann-rica  as  well  as  the  aristoci-atic  for- 
eigners might  have  her  oHigy  to  worshij),  and  huild 
lii-r  a  church  on  the  spot  of  her  ])reseiit  a[)pearing. 
The  priests  pret(Mide(l  to  Ix;  incredulous  at  iirst,  but 
linally  permitted  the  natives  to  have  their  own  j»ar- 
ti^ular  virgin,  as  the  latter  were  inclined  to  negleet 
tlie  deities  of  S[iain  for  those  of  !Mexic(^.  It  is  not  an 
.ittrartivc  place  on  a  holiday  for  a  [urson  of  retiiied 
'irgans  (»r  sensitive  nerves,  as  the  crowds  drawn  thither 
not  of  tlu!  best  behavior.  Tlie  gamblhig  and 
linking  of  the  worshippers  after  church  ser\  ice  are 
of  a  rather  low  order,  the  bets  iH-inix  small  and  the 
di'iidv  pulque.  There  was  one  highly  respectable  den 
'f  infamy,  however,  where  tlu;  suju-rior  class,  the  upj)er 
-trata  of  society,  statesmen,  militaiy  ofhcers.  and  com- 
mercial men,  mi«>]it  induh'-e  in  lai-Lfer  stakes  at  tlie 
tables  representing  the  more  ])opula!'  European  games, 
'vith  French  wine  and  brandy.  For  everywhere  in 
Mexico,  as  in  most  other  places,  it  is  not  vice  itself 
that  is  scourged  so  much  as  the  manner  of  indulgence. 
Any  amount  of  wickedness  is  anywhere  tolerated  so 

Lit.  In  I).    47 


;ii'e 


•  i.j| 


^7 .^>    ▼',0. 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


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► 

Photographic 

Sciences 
Corporation 


23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTEK.N  Y   M580 

(716)  a72-4S0i 


« 


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:\ 


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<>.'^   '<^q\ 


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^ 


^^  S' 


«"  mp. 


<? 


738 


EXPEDITIONS  TO  MEXICO. 


that  it  be  conventional.  It  is  quite  orthodox  for  tlie 
common  people  of  Mexico  to  get  drunk  on  pulque, 
while  the  upper  strata  may  indulg;e  without  limit  in 
wine,  so  h)ng  as  they  do  not  drink  in  bar-rooms  or 
tipi)le  throughout  the  day.  So  with  regard  to 
gambling,  clieating,  law-breaking,  unl)eliet',  licen- 
tiousness, and  all  the  crime  and  vices  flesh  is  hen- 
to — let  them  be  done  decently  and  in  order,  in 
such  a  Avay  as  to  avoid  exposure  or  punishment,  and 
all  is  well. 

General  Cdrlos  Pacheco,  minister  of  Fomento,  who 
lost  an  arm  and  a  leg  in  the  war,  is  a  man  of  sterling 
worth,  and  highly  respected  throughout  the  republic. 
Francisco  de  Garay,  an  engineer  of  great  reputation 
and  ability,  in  a  series  of  conversations  gave  me  the 
coloring  for  the  several  phases  of  ^Mexican  histoi'v 
during  the  present  century,  such  as  could  not  be 
found  in  books. 

I  found  in  the  prominent  lawyer  and  statesman, 
Francisco  L.  Vallarta,  a  most  serviceable  friend.  Then 
there  were  President  Iglesias  and  his  cabhiet  whom 
I  entei-talned  in  San  Francisco  during  their  fliij^ht  to 
the  United  States,  who  were  most  cordial  in  their 
ti'reetinijfs  and  attentions.  Tiie  venerable  and  learned 
Prieto  was  of  their  nundier.  I  may  also  mention 
Jose  Maria  Vigil,  director  of  the  Blblioteca  National; 
iVlberto  Lombardf),  one  of  the  best  families;  Doctor 
Ramon  Fernandez,  governor  of  the  district  General 
Naranjo,  acting  secretary  of  war  and  navy;  Juan 
Toro,  postmaster  general ;  Vicente  E.  Manero,  archi- 
tect and  engineer;  Feli[)e  Gerardo  Cazeneuve,  pro- 
prietor of  AV  Mumlano;  Joaquin  Garcia  Icazl)alceta, 
with  a  beautiful  house  and  line  library,  whose  works 
were  freely  used  and  quoted  by  me  In  my  Native 
Itaces;  Jose  Ceballos,  president  of  the  senate;  Jesus 
Fuentes  y  Muniz,  minister  of  the  Hacienda;  Luis 
Siliceo;  Juan  Yndico,  keeper  of  the  archives  of  tlio 
district  of  Mexico;   Jesus  Sanchez,  diiector  of  the 


CORTEZ  AND  DIAZ. 


739 


11!) 


museum,  and  a  host  of  others.  Icazbaleeta  is  more 
bibhographcr  than  writer;  he  cleans  the  pages  of  his 
old  books,  restores  lost  and  faded  cuts  with  pen  and 
ink,  and  he  even  set  up  with  his  own  hands  ths  type 
for  one  of  his  reprints.  Manuel  Romero  Rubio, 
father-in-law  of  tlie  late  president,  introduced  me  to 
Porfirio  Diaz,  and  ho  to  President  Gonzalez.  From 
General  Diaz,  tlie  foremost  man  in  the  republic,  I 
took  a  two  weeks'  dictation,  employing  two  stenogra- 
phers, and  yielding  400  pages  of  manuscript.  Natu- 
rally, during  this  time,  and  subsequently,  I  became 
well  acquainted  with  the  Diaz  family,  dining  fre- 
quently there,  and  with  the  father  of  the  charming 
wife  of  the  president,  whose  home  was  one  of  the  most 
elegant  in  the  capital. 

Romero  Rubio,  tlien  president  of  the  senate,  for- 
merly minister  of  foreign  affairs,  and  subsequently 
minister  under  Diaz,  is  a  fine  specimen  of  a  wealthy 
and  aristocratic  Mexican;  grave  and  somewhat  dis- 
tant in  his  demeanor,  vet  kind  and  cordial  amonij: 
friends,  and  punctilious  in  the  performance  of  every 
tluty,  public  and  private. 

Porfirio  Diaz  appears  more  American  than  Mexi- 
can. In  the  hall  of  the  municipality  and  district  of 
IVIexico  are  portraits  of  all  the  rulerti,  regal  and  re- 
publican, from  Cor-tes  to  Diaz.  And  between  the 
first  and  the  last  are  some  points  of  resemblance. 
Cortes  made  the  first  conquest,  Diaz  the  last.  The 
former  chose  Oajaca  as  his  hcjme;  tlie  latter  was  born 
there.  In  this  portrait  of  Coi-tes,  tlie  finest  I  haw 
seen,  tlie  conqueror  is  n^proseiitcd  as  quite  old,  toward 
the  end  of  life,  wlien  the  ju'itle  of  gratified  ambition 
luul  been  somewliat  obliterated  by  the  machinations 
of  enemies,  the  neglect  of  his  sovereign,  and  the 
jealousy  of  couitiers.  Tliei'e  is  present  less  of  the 
strong  man  triunqfliant  tlian  of  tlie  strong  man 
humiliated.  Diaz  has  had  his  triumphs;  perhaps  his 
humiliations  are  yet  tcj  come.  Few  great  men  escape 
them  toward  the  end  of  their  career;  indec.l  they 


P 


tjii 


"I 


740 


JIXl'EDITIONS  TO  MEXICO. 


seem  necessary,  in  the  economy  of  politics,  to  termi- 
nate the  too  ambitious  man's  efforts,  whose  preten- 
tions otherwise  would  know  no  bounds. 

The  two  great  receptacles  of  knowledge,  ancient 
and  modern,  historical,  scientific,  and  religious,  in  the 
Mexican  capital,  and  which  make  the  heart  of  the 
student,  investigator,  or  collector,  to  quail  before 
them,  are  the  Biblioteca  Nacional,  or  national  library, 
and  the  Archivo  General  y  Publico  de  la  Nacion,  or 
national  archives. 

Tlic  Biblioteca  Nacional  occupies  a  large  building, 
formerly  a  church,  part  of  the  walls  of  one  portion  of 
it  having  been  worked  over  until  it  has  quite  a 
modern  and  imposing  aspect.  To  enter  tlie  library, 
as  at  this  time  arranged,  you  pass  through  a  well-kept 
garden  to  the  door  of  the  untouched  poi-tion  of  tlio 
antique,  passmg  which  you  find  yourself  in  a  largo 
room,  with  irregular  sides  and  angles,  well  filled  wltli 
books.  At  tables  are  usually  ten  or  twenty  per- 
sons readiiiij:  or  wiitin-jj. 

Thence  through  a  small  door  in  the  wall  you  may 
pass  into  the  main  building,  or  rather  the  main  library 
room,  on  either  side  of  which  are  ranges  of  lessor 
rooms;  eacli  holding  one  of  the  sections,  or  part  of  a 
section,  into  which  the  library  is  divided.  The  volumes 
nominally  number  130,000,  folios  in  vellum  largolj'- 
predominating,  nine  tenths  of  which  are  of  no  value 
from  any  point  of  view.  Throw  out  these,  and  the 
many  duplicates,  and  tho  number  is  not  so  imposing. 

Tlie  sections,  or  princi[)al  divisions,  are  eleven 
namely,  bibliograph}^  theology,  philosophy,  juris- 
prudence, niatliematics,  natural  science  and  physics, 
medical  science,  technology,  philology  and  belles 
lettres,  history,  and  periodical  literature. 

Senor  Vigil  wrote  out  for  me  a  very  interesting 
historical  description  of  this  instituticjii.  The  library 
was  formed,  to  a  great  extent,  from  the  old  libraries 
of  the  university,  the  cathedral,  and  the  several  con- 
vents of  the  city.     The  edifice  was  the  ancient  temple 


BIBLIOTEOA  NACIOX.VIi. 


741 


of  San  Augustin,  and  is  still  undergoing  changes  and 
repairs  to  meet  the  prct^ent  purpose.  On  the  posts  of 
the  fence  surrounding  tlie  grounds  are  busts  of  notable 
authors,  Yeytia,  Navarrete,  Alzate,  Pefia,  Alainan, 
and  Clavijero;  also  Cardoso,  Gongora,  Pesado, 
Couto,  Najera,  Ramirez,  Tafle,  Gosostiza,  Gaspio ; 
and  tlie  illustrious  aboriginals,  displaying  features 
fully  as  refined  and  intelligent  as  the  others,  Nczahual- 
coyotl,  Ixtlilxochitl,  and  Tezozoinoe.  In  the  reading 
room  are  statut's  of  persons  whose  names  mark  the 
devolopnient  of  human  thought,  according  to  the  esti- 
mate hereabout :  Confucius,  Ysarias,  llomer,  Plato, 
Aristotle,  Cicero,  Virgil,  Saint  Paul,  Origen,  Dante, 
Alarcoii,  Copernicus,  Descartes,  Cuvier,  and  Hum- 
boldt. 

The  library  is  open  from  ten  to  five,  and  free; 
aimual  revenue  for  new  books  Jj^SOOO ;  the  attache's 
are  one  director,  two  assistants,  four  book  clerks,  a 
chief  of  workmen,  a  paloogtuifo,  eight  writers, 'a  con- 
serjo,  gardener,  porter,  and  three  mozos. 

All  the  work  on  the  building,  ornamentation,  stat- 
ues, and  furniture,  has  been  done  by  Mexican  artisans 
and  artists.  The  labor  of  classifying  and  arranging 
the  books  was  long  and  severe.  It  Wi(3  found  on 
opening  boxes  which  liad  been  packed  and  stored  for 
fifteen  years,  that  there  were  many  broken  sets  which 
never  could  be  completed. 

Far  more  important  for  history,  if  not,  indeed,  the 
most  hnpoi'tant  collection  on  the  continent,  is  the  Ar- 
rhivo  de  la  Nac'ion.  I  found  here  in  charge  my  old 
friend  Justino  Kubio,  under  whose  su])orintendence 
nmch  extensive  cojn'ing  (»f  manuscripts  and  documents, 
no  where  else  existing,  has  been  done  in  times  past  for 
my  library.  It  did  not  require  the  permission  of  the 
secretary  of  foreign  relations,  so  readily  accorded  to 
nie,  to  enable  me  to  visit  and  extract  from  these  ar- 
< 'hives  at  pleasure. 

The  national  archives  occupy  eleven  rooms  in  one 
section  of  the  palace,  pretty  solidly  filled  with  mate- 


742 


EXFRRITIONS  TO  MEXICO 


rials  for  history,  mostly  in  docunientary  form,  though 
there  are  some  printed  books.  The  first  or  main  room 
contains  something  over  3,000  volumes,  relating  to 
land-titles  and  water-rights  from  1534  to  1820. 
Among  the  many  points  of  interest  in  this  collection 
are  200  volumes  relating  to  the  Spanish  nobility  in 
Mexico ;  the  branch  of  Merced,  or  concessions  of  lands 
to  private  persons;  a  royal  cedula  branch,  comprishig 
227  volumes  from  160i).  Some  rooms  are  filled  en- 
tirely with  manuscripts.  The  section  on  history  con- 
tains nmcli  material  relating  to  California  and  the 
internal  provinces,  from  wliicli  I  have  largeh'  copied. 
There  are  no  less  than  200  volumes  on  northern  his- 
tory alone,  and  1,000  volumes  of  military  reports  to 
viceroys,  little  from  whicli  has  ever  been  published. 

The  founding  of  this  institution  may  [frojierly  date 
from  1823,  though  it  has  a  more  extended  history  be- 
fore than  after  that  time,  while  for  some  tune  subse- 
<iuent't()  the  independence  little  attention  was  paid  to  it. 

I  believe  it  was  the  Count  Hevillao-igcdo  wlio,  in 
1790,  conceivcid  the  idea  of  establishing  in  ]\Iexico  a  de- 
pository similartothe  Archives  of  the  Indies  in  Spain. 
Chapultepec  was  talked  of  as  the  place  for  it,  and  two 
years  later,  through  his  minister,  the  Marques  de  Bj) 
jamar,  the  king  ordered  the  tiling  done.  It  seems 
that  the  govi^rnnient  documents  had  been  mostly  de- 
stroyed in  the  fire  of  101)2,  and  fi)r  a  half  century 
tlicreaftcr  few  were  saved. 

Copious  indices  wer'c  early  made  of  the  material, 
thus  adding  greatly  to  its  value.  I  notice  some  of 
the  headings,  as  tobacco,  excise,  duties,  puhjue.  ayun 
tamiento,  department  of  San  Bias,  of  the  Californias. 
audiencia,  mines,  military,  etc.  T(»  Kevillagigedo, 
likewise,  the;  world  is  indebted  for  the  important  work 
in  32  folio  volumes,  begun  in  17S0,  and  entitled  M(- 
inorkts  'jxira  la  Jllstoria  Inn'irrsdl  de  hi  America  i^ep^fi'- 
irtonal,  sent  by  the  vicf^roy  to  Spain.  For  some  time 
after  Bevillagigedo's  rule,  his  successors  paid  little  jit 
tention  to  the  archives,  so  that  little  more  was  doiu 


ARCHIVO  GENERAL  Y  PUBLICO. 


743 


until  after  independence  had  been  acli'ievcd. 

The  first  buil(Ung  occupied  by  the  archives  was  the 
old  Secretaria  del  Verreynato,  later  used  by  the  iiiin- 
istry  of  Relaciones.  Part  of  the  collection  was  depos- 
ited hi  the  convent  of  Santo  Domingo,  whence  many 
were  stolen. 

Among  those  to  fully  appreciate  the  value  of  these 
treasures,  and  the  importance  of  having  them  pro[)eily 
arranged  and  cared  for,  was  Jose  IVIariano  do  Salas, 
who  in  1840  printed  in  Mexico  a  Reglamento,  setting 
f(U"tli  their  value,  not  alone  for  the  ])rotection  of  the 
rights  of  property,  butns  a  nucleus  for  a  vast  aniomit  of 
further  information  which  might  b  secured  and  saved. 

An  inventory  was  ordered,  and  a  schedule  made  of 
material  elsi'where  existinu;  that  should  be;  lodu'cd 
there.  The  latter  included  ministerial  aflaii  <,  govern- 
ment and  war  correspondcniee,  etc.  Ap])ropriations 
Were  made  for  annual  expenses,  the  first  oflicial 
receiving  $15UU,  the  second  $1200,  the  third  ^1000, 
a  secretary  $300,  a  second  $450,  a  third  $400,  and  a 
pt)rter,  $;500.  Salaries  and  expenses  were  modified 
and  changed  from  time  to  time.  The  material  was 
now  divided  into  two  parts,  one'  relating  to  aitair's 
]>eforo  the  declaration  of  inde[)endence,  and  one  sub- 
si'quent  thereto.  Both  e])(>ehs  were  then  divided  into 
fonr  parts  corresponding  to  the  four  secretaries  of 
state,  namely,  memoirs,  hnv,  landed  proptrty,  and 
war.  Ivieh  of  these  subjects  were  divideilinto  sections, 
the  first  external  and  internal  government,  the  second 
law  and  ecclesiastical,  the  third  ]>roperty  rights,  and 
the  fourth  war  and  maritime  matteis.  All  these  were 
again  di^•ided,  and  sul)divided,  into  afi'aU-s  civil,  com- 
mercial, ]H)litical,  and  so  on. 

The  office  hours  are  from  nine  till  three.  Great 
care  is  taken  agauist  theft ;  no  document  may  Ik^  re- 
moved from  its  place  witliout  an  order,  and  no 
document  must  be  left  out  of  its  jilace  over  night. 

Of  this  institution  I  obtained  (.Ih'ect  and  important 
information,  far  more  than  I  can  print.     I  learn,  for 


ft'  1^ 


I  i  iiji !  'y 


744 


FArEUlTlONiS  10  :4K\ltO. 


instance,  that  to  the  3000  volumes  of  land  matters 
there  is  an  index  of  four  volumes ;  under  the  title  of 
gifts  arc  27t)  volumes;  entails,  181  volumes;  civil 
code,  12'JI)  volumes;  Indians,  70  volume?;  treasons, 
182  volumes;  intestates,  30'J  volumes;  drahiage,  44 
volumes. 

Uudur  title  of  tlie  Inquisition  arc  213  volumes  of 
procesos  against  priests  for  temptation  in  the  confes- 
sional, for  matrimonial  deceits,  blasphemies,  heresies, 
and  upon  genealogy  and  purity  of  blood.  Under  the 
heading  Jesuits,  is  a  volume  telUng  of  the  extinction 
of  the  order  in  Mexico,  Under  title  of  the  religious 
orders  of  California,  is  a  volume  on  their  foundation  in 
1793.  Tlien  there  are  the  archives  of  the  mint,  of 
the  renta  do  tabaco,  etc. 

Out  of  2&1  volumes  of  the  national  archives  relating,  to  a  great  extent,  to 
what  was  once  the  northern  frontier  of  the  republic,  l)ut  now  the  ilomain  of 
the  United  States,  I  extract  the  following: 

Historia  Tonio  XXI.,  Ivstahleciniiento  y  progreso  <le  la  Antigua  Califor- 
nia. TonioXXII.,  Id.,  por  cl  Padre  Fray  Francisco  I'ahm.  Tonio  XXIll., 
Xueva  California  por  id.  id.  Tonio  XXXL,  Puerto  do  Xootka.  Tonio 
XXXVI.,  Enlrada  a  California  del  Padre  Salvatierra  do  la  Coin]>ania  do 
.Icsus.  Tonio  XLIV.,  ICxtraeto  de  la  uavcgacion  de^de  el  puorto  do  Kootka  y 
recoiiociniieiito  de  la  Costa  del  Sur.  Tonio  LVIL,  Expedieiite  hi.storico  de 
las  navcgacionea  hechas  a  las  Costas  Septentrionales  de  Californias  para 
desculirir  y  dctcrniinar  la  e.xtensiou  de  aus  distritos  e  ]  las  Adyacentcs. 
Tonio  LX]  ,  Diario  de  la  cxploracion  del  Alfcrcz  Don  .Juan  I'crez  a  los  I'uer- 
tos  de  iSan  Diego  y  Monterey,  1774,  No.  7.  Id.,  <K'l  I'iloto  10  tehaii  .Jose 
Martinez  al  Puerto  de  Monterey,  1774,  no.  8.  Tonio  LXIL,  Id.  de  kn  11.  R. 
P.P.  Fray  Francisco  Atauasio  Domingucz  y  Fray  Silvestro  Velez  de  Esca- 
lante  para  descuhrir  el  caniiuo  de  Santii  Fe  del  Xucvo  Mexico  al  de  Monte- 
rey en  la  California  Septentrional,  177(5,  No.  1.  Tonio  LXIIL,  Exploracioii 
liecha  el  afio  de  1779  d  las  Costas  de  Californias  por  el  Teniontc  do  Xavio  Uou 
Ignacio  de  Arteaga.  Diario  del  mismo  Artea^a,  No.  u.Sl.  Tonio  LXIV., 
Diario  de  navegacion  del  Tcniente  do  Xavio  Don  Fernando  Bernardo  de 
Quirds  y  Miranda,  17711,  No.  1.  Diario  del  Piloto  Don  Jose  Caniaclio,  1779, 
No.  2.  Id.  de  Don  Juan  Pautoja  y  Arteaga,  1779,  No.  8.  Id.  de  D.  .fuan 
Francisco  de  la  Bodega  y  Cuadra,  1779,  No.  4.  Diario  y  uavcgacion  del  Al- 
fercz  do  Fracata  JJon  Jose  do  Cafiizares,  1779,  No.  .'j.  Tonio  LXVIl.,  Expe- 
dicute  sobre  liniites  ilc  las  Costas  Septentrionales  de  California  eucargada  al 
(!apitan  do  Navio  Don  Juan  do  la  Bodega  y  Cnadi'a,  1792,  Nos.  24-").  Coii- 
veneion  cntre  Espafia  e  Inglaterra  solire  la  pcsca,  navegacion  y  voi.ieri'ioi  ii 
el  oceano  Pacllieo  y  los  ]\lares  del  Sur,  '28th  Oct.  de  1790,  y  "xpedieute  di' 
liniites  al  liacer  la  entrega  do  Nootka,  No.  (J.  Instruccion  de  1  ts  coniereiaii- 
tcs  propietarios  a  Mr  Jn.  Mares,  Coniandante  de  los  Bu((ues,  '  La  VcUz  y  la 
Itigenia,' en  Ingles  y  traducida  al  Espafiol.     Tomo  LXVIII.,  Oaipacion  del 

iiuerto  de  Nootka,  1790,  estrccho  de  Fuca,  Costas  del  Principe  Cruillermo, 
intrada  de  Cook  6  islas  de  Sandwich,  1791,  No.  1.  Tomo  LXIX.  Descidn-i- 
niicnto  en  las  costas  Septentrionales  de  Californias  desde  los  48  ,;rados  2()' 
liasta  los  49  grados  50',  No.  7.  Diario  e  Iiiformes  del  Tcuiente  de  Fragata 
Don  Manuel  Quiniper  desde  sn  salida  de  San  Bias  a  Nootka,  1791,  No.  8, 
con  varies  pianos  de  Fiica,  Puerios  do  Clayucuat,  San  Lorenzo  tie  Nootka, 


C'ALIFOIINIA  MANUSCKllT  MATKKIAL. 


74.-. 


Bucn.a  Esperanza,  BrnliH,  San  Jaime  e  islas  do  San  Anie.  Toino  LX.\.. 
Llugada  ild  Coniatidantu  de  la  Kxpodicion  &  Xootka  y  rcmisiou  de  su  diarin 
cnn  los  pUuKW,  dil)uj()s  y  noticias  t'sencialos  de  su  coiiii^inn,  17!*-,  Xi>.  1. 
Fortilicacioii  del  rrosidio  de  ('alifornias,  1704,  No.  4.  JlceniKiciniienti)  di'  l.i 
(Vista  deade  el  Puerto  de  Bui'areli  liaata  el  de  Nootka  pdrcl  Teiiiente  de 
Xavio  D.  .laeinto  C'aainafio.  Tomo  LXXI.,  Lista  de  Ins  plaiKu  <|\ie  iiicluye 
el  diario  del  I'apitan  de  Navio  don  Francisco  Juan  de  la  Ciiadra,  lirdio  en  su 
viaje  do  Nootka.  1.  Vista  de  las  islas  Manas,  '2.  Jsla  do  Sau  I'.cnedicto,  ;{. 
I'".ntrada  a  Nootka,  4.  I'lano  del  I'uerto  de  Nootka,  ."t.  Vista  <lel  estalil.^ci- 
inieuto  dcNooLka,  Ci.  liuliia  il'!  Xootka,  7.  I'lauo  d(!  las  ]»aliias  de  Nootka, 
y  ]{uena  Esperanz.i,  S.  Carta  de  la  eosta  comiirendida  cut  re  el  grailo  40''  y  cI 
.')()  Lat.  Norte,  etc. ,  etc.  Nuevo  Keeoiiociniiento  de  la  Costa  de  California, 
tlictanien  de  los  Olicialcs  do  Marina  (laliano,  Valdcs,  Ijcrnardo  y  .Salamanca 
.sol)re  ir  liasta  cd  grado  (10°,  No.  '2.  liesultas  del  desculiriniicnto  do  la  Costa 
entre  Sau  Franeiseo  y  Fuca  jior  Don  Francisco  Kli/.a  y  el  pilotii  Juan  Marti- 
nez liayos,  No.  8.  Kxtracto  de  las  navegacioiies  licclias  en  la  America  Sep- 
tentrional ]ior  1).  Jacinto  Caamano,  Teuicnte  dc  Navio  desde  el  puerto  de  Sau 
l?las  dc  doude  salio  el  l!0  de  Mar/o  de  170'2,  No.  1 1.  I'lamis  de  la  ( 'osta  do 
la  Nueva  Cautahria,  sus  islas  desdc;  .'•'an  Loniizo  de  Nootka  a  iJucareli  y 
I'uerto  dc  Biicareli.  Tomo  LXXIl.,  I'rovincia  de  .'alifornias.  llostiincu 
general  (jue  manitiesta  el  estado  eu  ipie  se  hallan  losinievos  estiiblecimientos 
de  la  provincia  y  expresa  los  presidios,  pueblos,  iudiuy,  etc.,  do  t^uo  ae  coni- 
pone,  1804,  No.  ],"). 

^'2^^  Californias,  Minas  de  1773,  No,  1. 

JUSTINO   RUBU). 

Mi'.xico,  Novieuiliro  7  <le  ISSS. 

Anota.ciou  de  los  asuntos  jiriiuipalos  contenidns  en  el  raino  do  '  Californias, ' 
en  el  Archive  general  y  pi'dilico  di^  la  Nacion. 

California,  Tomo  1.,  Informe  solire  el  estado  de  las  tineas  que  administra 
I).  Florcntino  M.irtincz,  \S'^'2,  No.  (i.  Solirc  salier  si  el  sujicrintemleute  dc 
la  easa  de  Moneda  pagcJ  una  tianza  de  .S3.400,  eon  calidad  ile  rcintegro  para 
la  hacienda  piililiea.  No.  S.  Que  se  paseii  a  la  junta  directi\  i  <lcl  fondo  pia- 
doso  do  Californias  todos  los  titulos  y  docnmentos  de  su  propjcilad  No.  0. 
Keglamento  do  la  junta.  No.  10.  Tomo  II.,  I'riuiera  parti',  Indice  de  los 
doeunientos  y  expedientes  relatives  a  las  provincias  de  (California,  1777,  No. 
I.  Segunda  parte,  minas  ilel  Ileal  de  Santa  Ana,  UKH,  No.  II.  (iobcrna- 
dor  de  la  Nueva  California  Teniente  Coronel  .lose  .roa((nin  de  Arrillaga,  sf)l)re 
su  juraniento  y  posesiou  y  saea  del  Real  Titulo  para  lo  ]iolitico,  afio  de  ISO"), 
No.  10.  Tomo  111.,  Id.  para  la  ar.tigua California  Hon  Felipe  ( Inycoehoa,  sn 
juraniento  y  posesion,  ISO.'j,  No.  'JO.  Tomo  VIll.,  Navcgacifiu  de  San  Bias, 
a  la  Costa  Septentrional  de  California  hasta  el  grado  01,  1770,  No.  1  Diario 
de  navegacion  de  San  Bias  a  Sn  Diego  ysn  retoruo,  177S,  No.  '2,  Viage  i 
la  America  Meridional  desde  el  puerto  de  San  ])iego  de  Acapulco  y  regreso 
del  Callao  de  Lima  al  puerto  de  San  Bias  por  D.  .luau  Fran<'isco  Bodega  y 
Cuadra,  1770,  No.  .S.  (3cupacinii  dc  Nootka  jior  Martinez,  1S07,  No.  4.  Ar- 
riho  al  puerto  de  San  Francisco  <le  la  Alta  California  de  la  fragata  de  S.  M. 
B.  Racoon,  1814,  No.  .").  Diario  dc  navegacion  de  J).  Estchan  Jose  ^Martinez 
del  viage  que  hizo  a  los  pucrtos  <lc  San  Fi'anciseo,  San  l>iego,  y  Monterey, 
1770,  No.  (5.  Tomo  IX.,  Fnrtiiicacioii  do  los  puertos  de  San  Francisco.  Mon- 
terey, y  San  Diego,  con  artilleria  y  pertrechos,  1702,  No.  'A.  Iv-tragos  cau- 
sado.s  por  los  tempfirales  en  las  hateria.s  dc  San  FVanciseo,  1700,  No.  8.  Tomo 
XV.,  Dictiimen  del  R.  P.  F.  Juan  Agustin  Morfi  sohro  el  diario  y  derrotero 
dc  los  ll.R.  P.P.  Domingucz  y  Veloz  dc  Escalaiite  desde  la  Villa  de  Santa  Fe 
hasta  Monterey  y  puerto  de  San  Francisco,  18.")'2,  No.  7.  Proyecto  remitido 
eon  Real  drden  .sobre  poblar  la  costa  de  Montci-ey  en  la  Nueva  California. 
1801,  No.  8.  Tomo  XVIII.,  El  jefe  politico  de  Caiifornias  acompanando  un 
l)lano  para  convertir  en  pueblos  las  misiones,  1 820,  No.  X\.  I^asteri,  1 ).  Luis, 
informando  sobre  el  o.stado  actual  del  fondo  piadoso  de  Californias  y  de  cada 
una  de  sus  fineas,  1829,  No.  .'^4.  Tomo  XXL,  Real  orden  de  l,"?  de  Enero  de 
1779,  parft  que  se  aticada  y  favorezca  u  Don  Autuuio  du  Ui>io  y  se  iiilorniti 


1   -li 


f  1    ■    >:• 


11 


740 


EXPKWTION.S  TO  MEXICO. 


accrca  (lei  punto  quo  trivta  sobrc  ganailoM  mo.strencos  do  Californiaa,  ISOl, 
No.  <i.  Kstragos  quo  fii  Uiciuinliro  ilo  KS12  causarou  Ioh  tcnililurt's  on  laAlta 
California,  \S\'A,  "So.  l,"t.  'I'l.tiin  XXN'l.,  UualoH  ordenen  li  lu.s  viruyi's  kiiIjii! 
el  gobiorii')  do  la^  iiiisiimiM  <]'•  ( 'aliliirnias,  1747,  No.  1.  Tnuui  XXXV.,  .So- 
guiula  uxpiMliciMii  imr  tieria  a  la  .NiU'.va  Caliloriiia,  (n'lijiai'iou  y  jiolilaciiiii  de 
iSaii  FraiiciscMi,  (777,  No.  1.  ileal  (Irdeii  iiiiiiidaiulo  tni'mai' iiilevn  rrixlaiiiciiln 
jiara  S;iii  ]»las  y  ( 'alifoniias.  1777,  No.  '_'.  In^triiciidii  dada  al  (•(Hiiaiidaiiti' 
(If  Ids  miuvoH  (•sliililuciiiiiiiitii.-i  do  t'alifiiriiias  liasla  177.">,  No.  4.  ',>iariii  dc 
Martini:/,  y  i'antoja  y  Mt  lu-es  nnatidos  jmr  I'on  Igii.ic-io  Artcaga  fiiLiido  cl 
jiiiiit.)  do  j^iirtiil.i  Sun  I'.iiis  y  (1  dc  ti'iiiiii.n  ,S,;ii  l-'ii:.,  i,  17Sl',  No.  7.  I)iari.> 
(111  navogai'iou  <nio  aralia  de  liaitr  cl  ra(|ui;liiit  de  S.  M.  id  I'rincipo  al  inierto 
dii  Monteriy  ;il  cargo  dti  su  C^ajiitan  y  I'doto  |)on  .loii-  ( 'afii/aros,  1774,  Xo. 
N.  l)iari()  de  navegacion  de  1).  .lost;  t'afii/urcs,  scguiido  ( 'iqdlan  y  JMotii  del 
I'aqueliot.  de  >.  M.  S;in  ( 'arlos,  el  lU.il  .'aleii  liai'cr  viage  a  los  puertos  do 
Monterey  y  San  j'irgoonli  eota  Ooridiiital  de  la  ( 'alilornia  al  itiando  del 
lapitan  y  iiiloto  1).  Migiiol  dol  I'lno  llrvaudo  en  ooiisorva  al  ])a((uoliot  de  S. 
M.  San  Antoniii  (alia>)  el  I'niiciiio  liajo  del  eoniando  dol  allere/  de  I'i'agata 
y  piiMiir  ]iiloto  do  diclio  hnijiic  1 ».  .liian  I'ito/,  I7>>-,  Xo.  !>.  Diai'io  de  navo- 
gaeion  did  all'ero/.  dc  tragata  l>.  listolian  .lose  Marline/,  17!SIi,  Xo.  '.(,  eonian- 
dando  ol  p.inncliot  dc  S.  .M.  San  Carlos  (A)  el  l'iiili|iiiio  y  la  fragata  Xue-^lra 
Scfiora  de  los  Jtiuiedids  (.\)  Kavoi'ita  del  niando  del  segiindo  jiiloto  I).  .In:ni 
Hautista  de  Aguirre  a  los  nnuvos  ostaliloeiiiiiontos  de  San  Francisco,  Monlo- 
rey,  iMisenada  del  I'rincijMi  en  el  caii.il  de  Santa  IJ:irliara  y  San  Diego,  No. 
!).  IHario  de  viages  a  la  eosla  .Septentrional  de  ( 'alifornia,  I7S-,  No.  10. 
|)iario  de  na\-egacion  del  scgnndo  pdoto  .Inan  do  I'antoja  y  Arriaga,  17S2,  do 
San  lUas  a  San  l)iego,  IMano  I,  lOnsenada  do  la  riiri.sinia  Conceitciou;  'J, 
EiLsenada  Mesealtitan;  S,  Ensenada  del  J'rineipe;  4,  l'e(|nena  carta  (jiie  con- 
tiene  el  canal  dc  Santa  liarliara  en  la  co.sta  Sei)lcntrional  do  ('alilornia; 
"),  Puerto  de  San  Diego,  No.  I'J.  Saliila  del  pnerto  de  San  Diegu  para  el  do 
San  lUas,  No.  \'2.  Diario  de  navegacioii  de  Don  Kstcliau  .Jcjsc  .Martinez, 
primer  pilotn  do  la  Heal  Ai'niada  y  eapitan  do  la  Iragata  de  S.  M.  nondirada 
N'uestra  Scnora  del  Ito.^ario  (al  la  I'rineesa,  de  San  llias  a  los  pucrtos  dc  San 
I'rancisco,  canal  de  Santa  llailiara,  y  plierto  de  >San  Diego,  17S-,  No.  \',i. 
Toino  .\.\XVJ.,  1  Hseuliriiiiientodel  paraji;  nomlirado  X'ifiadoco  en  Califoi'iiias 
y  fundacion  de  cineo  niisioncf  jmr  Ins  padres  Doininicos,  1777,  Nos.  4  y  18. 
So  vnelve  a  pohlar  el  piisidio  do  J.,oreto  y  se  ordena  ipio  las  niisioues  del 
niisnio  presiitio  so  I'odii/can  ii  plieldos,  1777,  No.  .").  Jlcglanicnto  provisional 
para  las  atcncioiies  do  San  I51as  y  Calil'nrnias,  17S0.  Tonio  .XX.VIX.,  So  rc- 
niiten  a  la  coiuandancia  general  diarlos  y  niapas  do  exploraciones,  No.  '2S. 
Tonni  XLl.,  Ivoniision  de  cxpdsitos  a  ('alilornia.  17'.l!l,  No.  .'{.  ToinoXljlV., 
Traslacioii  do  la  mision  de  San  Francisco  y  extincioii  do  la  de  .Santa  Cruz, 
\S'2'.\,  No.  iS.  Tomo  Xl.i\l.,  .Monterey,  jircsidio,  incondio  dc  la  mayor  piirte 
de  el  ]~S\),  No.  '2.  Touio  XLVIL.  Navegacion  licclia  ]»or  ol  alfere/  dc  navio 
eomandaiite  dc  la  I'rincosa  dosde  ol  ]mcito  de  -Manila  a  las  l^las  Filiiiinas. 
call.)  lie  .San  J.i'.cas  en  Califomias  \~H'A,  No.  1.  Diario  de  navegacion  de  Don 
Jose  Antonio  Wizquez,  primer  piloto  de  .Manila  li  las  islas  Filipinas  y  a  las 
eosta.s  lie  Nneva  J'.spana,  17fS0,  No.  '2.  Esplanadas,  (Jnardia,  y  Casa  .Mata  d'; 
Monterey,  eiienta  ile  sii  costo,  17'.l-,  No.  5.  I'laiio  del  pncrto  de  San  Fran- 
cisco por  D.  .lost' .l(iai|iiin  do  Arteaga  ano  de  17!'-,  No.  S.  Diario  i!c  nave- 
gacion del  alfci'o/.  dc  Iragata  y  j)rimer  piloto  D.  Jo.^e  Camacho  dcsdecl  pucrto 
de  San  lilasal  Callao  de  Lima  en  la  fi'agata  XuestraSofiorade  los  Kenu'iliits  (a) 
Favorita,  17S1,  No.  !).  Tomo  XLVIll.,  J-^stragos  eatisados  en  el  ])residio  do 
Sau  F^-aneisco  j)or  los  tenipoiales  de  los  ilias  ]'A  y  IS  de  Enero,  1804,  No.  X 
Xnevo  estalilecunicnto  de  nn  ranclio  de  ganatlo  nienor  en  el  presidio  dc  San 
Francisco  por  ciienta  de  la  Heal  Hacit  nda,  17i>7,  No.  1'2.  Tomo  XLIX., 
J'oliladoros  volimtarios  j)ara  la  Villa  de  Branoifoite  .Jose  Tiuiotoo  Vasijue/  y 
otros;  I'onsamiento  del  <  ioliierno  do  l.i  antigua  California  de  trasladar  a  San 
(^nintin  el  apostadero  de  San  Bias,  ISO!^,  No.  '2.  luformes  de  los  Kcligiosos 
dc  San  Fernando  sohre  poblaeiou  y  auuieuto  de  la  peniu»ula  de  California, 
17!n!,  No.  4. 

Mk.mco,  Nov.  10  de  ISS.S. 


if 


QlKKIl  I'LACKS.  747 

The  municipal  arcliivcs,  or  the  ardiivos  of  tiic  tlis- 
trict  of  Moxico,  Juan  Yndico  keeper,  consists  of  city 
documcMits  iiccunuil.'itfMl  during:  tin;  })ast  -JOO  years. 
Tlio  greater  porti(»n  of  wluit  existed  prior  to  lf)l)2 
was  at  that  tlmo  burned. 

A  day  or  two  after  my  arrival  in  the  cajutal.  I 
stumbled  hito  a  (jueer  plac(>,  which  tlirew  mo  back  hi 
ima<ji,ination  three  huiuhed  years  or  so,  about  as 
elfectually  as  tlio  actually  occurrence  wor.!!!  have  done. 
Evervthing  was  apparently  in  tiio  last  stages  (tf  de- 
cay, books,  building,  street,  and  people.  It  was 
called  the  ])iblioteca  Popular  (k^l  f)  de  Mayo.  '^Fhe 
building  was  a  very  old  cliurch,  aroun<l  the  sides  of 
which  were  rude  shelves  filled  mostly  witli  old  parch- 
ment bound  folios,  made  by  foolisli  priests,  and  not 
wortli  five  dollars  a  ton  foi-  any  practical  use.  On 
the  floor  were  placed  rows  of  tal)les,  seated  at  whicli 
were  representatives  of  the  meagre  middle  class,  en- 
gaged for  the  most  ))art  in  readhig  newspa])ers. 
Doubtless  the  folios  of  tlu;  })riests,  winch  had  been 
flung  out  of  churches  and  convents,  uMed  greatly  to 
the  interest  of  the  newspa})ers,  ami  facilitated  tlie  ac- 
quisition of  kno\vle<lge  hi  so  far  as  it  can  l)e  absorbed 
from  such  surroundings.  But  befon^  these  aspirants 
for  republican  glory  load  up  the  intellect  much  mon^ 
heavily,  I  would  reconnnentl  tiiem  to  ])ut  some 
stronger  boards  in  the  floor,  lest  they  fall  through. 
The  edifice  was  erectcMl  in  1087,  anil  of  the  8,000 
books  probably  80  are  worth  shelf  room. 

Among  other  libraries  of  historic  interest,  I  may 
mention  those  of  Basalio  l^erez,  Agi-eda,  and  San 
Ikltifonso,  the  last  named  formerly  the  collection  of 
the  cathedral. 

The  public  library  of  Toluca,  comprising  some 
8,000  volumes,  is  prolific  in  chronicles  of  the  old 
convents.  Indeed,  Mexico  has  nianv  libraries  con- 
taining  important  historic  data,  notwithstanding  th(! 
chaflf  the  monks  imbedded  it  in.  In  this  sense  th(>re 
are  many  rare  and  valuable   books  throughout  the 


i! 


748 


KXl'EDITIONS  TO   MEXICO. 


republic;  but  of  the  class  coinmonly  called  rare  by 
collectors  and  bibliogiaplicrs,  valuable  only  as  speci- 
nions  of  early  printinjj^,  most  of  these  have  been  car- 
ried away.  S(>nor  Olajjfuibtd  }>niited  a  book  entitled 
fnqfrcfiiorioi  (Y'lchrcs  y  Jj'hroft  liuroti.  In  it  is  a  cJiapter 
devoted  to  raie  books  In  Mexico,  which  indecxl  says 
little  exct'])t  tliat  thrre  ar  ;  no  raru  books  in  Mexico. 
We  are  sol)erly  told,  Jiowcver,  that  some  one  has  re- 
prhited  tlie  life  of  Junijii  lo  Serra,  which  is  the  foun- 
dation of  California  liistoryl 

In  tlie  beautiful  and  very  rcliojious  city  of  Puebla 
is  the  Cole^io  de  Estado,  witli  a  library  of  20,000 
volumes,  the  institution  having  the  usual  departments 
of  natural  li'istory,  diemistry,  Latin,  Greek,  etc. 
The  buiklings,  formerly  a  convent,  are  antique  and 
cover  a  large  area,  having  among  other  attractions  a 
well  shaded  and  watered  gardon,  with  fountains  and 
gold  fisli.  Here  are  200  students,  male;  the  placo 
could  easily  accommodate  a  thousand. 

Another  large  building  in  another  part  of  the  city 
is  called  the  school  of  medicine,  in  which  is  a  general 
library  of  2(5,000  volunu^s,  but  containhig,  as  moat  of 
them  do,  more  theology  than  anything  else. 

On  a  cool,  dry  December  evening,  as  the  sun  was 
sinking  behind  tlic  skirts  of  Popocatepetl,  I  found 
myself  standing  upon  the  sunniiit  of  the  hill  of  Cho- 
lula,  amidst  the  ])orcelain-p]anted  graves,  drooi)lng 
pimi-s,  and  stunted  rose-l)ushes,  in  front  of  the  churcli 
with  its  dilapklatcd  wall  and  large  open  reservoir.  It 
is  a  rugged,  uneven  elevation,  lising  solitary  some 
two  hundred  feet  above  the  plain,  and  is  evidently 
})artly  the  work  of  nature  and  partly  of  man.  The 
winding  roadwaj',  half  of  it  paved  smooth  with  stones 
and  half  in  form  of  broad  steps,  is  bt)rdered  by  thrifty 
grass,  which  also  crops  forth  upon  little  benches,  and 
the  thick  shrubbery  that  covers  the  hillside  is  freely 
sprinkled  with  the  cactus  and  pepper-tree.  Popoca- 
tepetl, or  Smoking  Mountain,  rises  before  me,  and  next 
to  it  the  scarcely  less  imposing  peak  of  Iztaccihuatl, 


THE  HILL  OF  CHOT.UI.A, 


749 


Tho  White  Woman,  rIio  of  tlie  recumbent  figure  ; 
while  ill  the  opposite  direction,  over  the  glittcrinjj; 
domes  of  distant  Puobla,  stands  Orizaba,  also  wliitr- 
crestcd,  and  winged  by  fleecy  clouds. 

At  my  feet  lies  the  town  of  Cholula,  witli  its  loiv;- 
lines  of  mtersecting  ditches,  as  CoHi's  first  saw  tlu-iu, 
marking  the  divisions  of  cornfields,  and  gardcn-patcJK  s 
lined  with  niaguoy.  It  is  a  miserable  place,  made  up 
of  hovels,  churolirs,  and  cornfiolds,  one  view  of  which 
tells  the  story  of  life  here — how  tlie  poor,  in  tho 
small  uncomfortable  houses,  pinch  themselves  to 
sustain  a  costly  service  in  tho  greal  \  Mnples,  and  add 
to  their  splendor.  If  I  mistake  not,  God  would  bo 
better  pleased  with  smaller  churches,  fewer  priests, 
and  larger  and  more  comfortal  '•  dwellings  lor  his 
people. 

The  whole  of  this  immense  and  ricli  valley,  alter- 
nately the  prey  of  contending  armies  since  the  advent 
t)f  Cortes,  and  now  for  the  first  time  lenriiing  tlio  arts 
of  peace,  is  greatly  given  to  religion,  as  it  used  to  bo 
even  in  the  remote  times  of  Toltec  sway,  when  pil- 
urims  flocked  from  afar  to  the  slirine  of  the  Feathered 
Serpent.  Casting  my  eyes  around  over  one  of  the 
most  beautiful  scenes  in  Mexico,  I  count  two  score 
villages  marked  by  the  tall,  white  towers  of  thrice  as 
many  churches ;  some  indeed  being  nothing  more  than 
hamlets  with  half  a  dozen  ding}'  little  houses  cringing 
beside  a  great  ding}'  cliurch,  some  sheltered  1)y  trees 
and  shrubbery,  others  standing  solitary  in  the  open 
plain. 

I  thought  Puel)la  had  houses  of  worship  enough 
for  all,  v/ith  her  sixty  or  seventy  temples  of  every 
iinagniablc  style,  high-domed  and  broad-spreading 
edifices,  about  one  for  every  thousand  of  the  half- 
naked  and  barefooted  natives  wlio  are  culled  upon  to 
support  them  and  their  three  hundred  })riests.  Tho 
state  prison  is  part  churc'^  ;  in  the  house  of  maternity 
is  a  church ;  the  state  college  was  once  a  convent 
forming  part  of  a  church  edifice  ;  -md  the  cathedral, 


750 


ILXPEDITIONS  TO  MEXICO. 


There  is 
large  belLs 


though  smaller  than   the  one  in  Mexico,   accounted 
richer  within. 

But  for  all  this,  famous,  squalid  little  Cholula,  ac- 
cording to  the  population,  outdoes  Pucbla. 
the  little  church  with  its  two  towers  and 
on  the  historic  hill,  rusty  without,  but  elaborately 
gilded  within,  and  the  large  church  amidst  the  houses 
below,  near  where  the  worshippers  congregate  to  see 
the  bull-fight  after  service,  and  one  to  the  right  and 
another  to  the  left,  and  half  a  dozen  more  on  every 
side,  the  '  simultaneous  ringing  of  whose  bells  at  the 
hour  of  blazing,  tropical  afterglow  might  lead  one  to 
suppose  the  world  to  be  on  fire.  This  must  indeed 
have  been  a  foul  spot  of  Satan's  to  require  such  long 
and  elaborate  cleansing ;  for  hereabout  once  stood  no 
less  than  four  hundred  heathen  temples  ;  but  I  would 
I'ather  see  restored  and  preserved  some  of  those 
architectural  monuments,  albeit  in  good  truth  tem- 
ples of  Satan,  wliich  capped  this  pyramid  in  aboriginal 
times,  than  a  thousand  of  the  earth-bestrewed  edifices 
reared  to  his  confoundhig  at  the  cost  of  pinched 
toilers. 

As  I  thus  stood,  I  fancied  I  could  see  marching 
throuy;h  the  same  lon<r  white,  radiatint;  streets 
the  ancient  processions  with  their  dismal  chant  and 
clang  of  instruments,  coming  liither  from  all  direc- 
tions to  the  sacrifice.  I  fancied  I  could  see  the 
bodies  of  the  victims  tumbled  over  the  steeps  as 
the  blood-besmeared  priests  held  aloft  the  palpitating 
heait,  while  all  tlie  people  raised  their  voices  in  loud 
hosannas.  And  I  could  easily  imagine  the  good  god 
Quetzalcoatl  here  taking  leave  of  his  peojilc,  even  as 
did  Christ,  promising  meantime  to  return  with  new 
and  celestial  benefits. 

In  the  Puebla  state  library,  before  mentioned,  is  a 
volume  of  original  letters  of  Morelos,  and  several 
other  volumes  of  valuable  documents  relating  to  the 
days  of  independence,  1810-21.  General  documents 
run  from  1764  to  1858.     There  are  two  volumes  of 


RESULTS. 


761 


royal  cddulas  1527  to  1818;  also  two  volumes  of 
papers  relating  to  the  trial  of  the  priest  Mier,  wlio 
preached  against  the  Guadalupe  virgin. 

There  is  a  worm  in  Mexico  that  bons  its  hole 
straight  through  the  volume,  going  tlirougli  a  dozen 
books  standing  on  the  sliolf  without  deviation;  there 
is  anotlicr  that  takes  a  zig-zag  course,  one  worm  con- 
fining its  operations  chiefly  to  one  volume.  On  some 
of  my  purcliases  I  found  a  tiling  the  ^Mexicans  call  a 
gorgojo,  wliich  descends  into  books  perpendicularly; 
death  was  too  mild  a  fate  for  sucli  investigators. 

All  the  while  I  was  in  Mexico  I  gatliered  books, 
took  dictations,  and  wrote  down  my  thoughts  and  ob- 
servations. With  some  difliculty  I  succeeded  in  ob- 
taining enough  of  the  leading  journals  published  in 
Mexico  since  1800  to  make  a  continuous  file  of  the 
events  of  the  day  from  the  o})ening  of  tlie  century  to 
the  present  time.  These  series  of  newspapers,  each 
taking  up  the  thread  where  in  another  it  was  broken 
oflT,  proved  of  tlie  greatest  advantage  to  my  work. 

This  expedition  added  to  my  library  some  8,000 
volumes.  Three  3-ears  later  I  made  a  second  trip  to 
Mexico,  cliiefly  to  verify  certain  statements  and  add 
a  few  points  prior  to  closing  tlio  last  volume  of  ni}' 
lUsiory  of  Mexico,  'Wq  railwav  being  comj)leted,  tlie 
journey  was  notliing:  and  IxMng  l)rirf  and  witliout 
special  significance,  1  vill  intlict  no  further  detail  on 
the  reader. 


of 


CHAPTEll  XXIX. 


TOWARD  THE  END. 

Careless  of  censure,  nor  too  fond  of  fame; 
Still  plea.setl  to  praise,  yet  not  afraid  to  blame ; 
Averse  alike  to  Hatter,  or  otfend; 
Not  free  from  faults,  nor  yet  too  vain  to  mend. 


I'opfi. 


I  had  hoped  to  close  ray  library  to  general  work, 
and  dismiss  my  assistants  by  January  1,  1887.  I 
had  yet  several  years  of  work  to  do  myself,  in  any 
event,  but  I  thought  if  I  could  get  rid  of  the  heavy 
library  outlay  of  one  or  two  thousand  dollars  a 
month,  I  should  feel  more  inclined  to  take  life  easier, 
with  less  nervous  haste  and  strain  in  my  work. 

Several  causes  combined  to  prevent  this.  As  is 
usually  the  case,  the  completion  of  my  history  con- 
sumed more  time  than  I  had  anticipated,  the  neces- 
sary rewriting  and  revision,  not  to  mention  numberless 
delays  growing  out  of  the  cares  and  vicissitudes  of 
business,  being  beyond  calculation.  The  truth  is,  in 
looking  back  upon  my  life  and  its  labors,  I  cannot  but 
feel  that  I  never  have  had  a  full  and  fair  opportunity 
to  do  my  best,  to  do  as  good  woik  as  I  am  capable  of 
doing,  certainly  not  as  finished  work  as  I  might  do 
with  less  of  it  and  more  time  to  devote  to  it,  with 
fewer  cares,  fewer  interruptions.  I  have  often  won- 
dered what  I  might  do  were  I  not  forced  to  "write 
history  on  horseback,"  as  General  Vallejo  terms  it. 
On  the  other  hand,  I  have  had  much  to  be  thank- 
ful for,  and  can  only  submit  my  work  to  the  worM 
for  what  it  is  worth.  Again,  it  was  found  to  be  an 
absolute  necessity  for  the  proper  completion  of  my 
historical  series  to  provide  a  place  for  the  many  biog- 


(762) 


'CHRONICLES  OF  THE  BUILDERS.' 


753 


rapliics  of  important  personages,  to  which  I  have 
elsewhere  alluded. 

Notwithstanding  all  that  I  had  thus  far  done,  there 
was  yet  this  one  thing  lacking  to  make  my  work  all 
that  it  should  be.  As  the  end  of  my  labors  was 
drawing  near,  and  I  was  looking  forward  to  a  period 
of  cessation,  this  thought  forced  itself  more  and  more 
upon  my  mind,  giving  me  no  rest.  I  did  not  desire 
to  do  more.  Some  thought  the  histories  already  too 
extended,  not  fully  realizing  the  time  and  territory 
covered.  If  they  will  consider  each  work  separately, 
they  will  at  once  see  that  this  is  not  the  case.  Five 
volumes  devoted  to  hundreds  of  Native  Races  inhab- 
iting one  twelfth  of  the  earth's  surface,  or  three  vol- 
umes on  the  five  republics  of  Central  America  for  a 
period  of  nearly  four  centuries,  surely  are  not  too 
many  in  which  to  do  the  subject  justice.  And  so 
with  the  rest.  The  great  trouble  was  to  condense 
without  injury  to  the  work. 

During  all  my  historical  labors,  particularly  toward 
the  latter  part  of  the  term,  the  necessity  was  more 
and  more  forced  upon  my  mind,  of  some  method 
whereby  the  men  who  had  made  this  country  what 
it  is  should  receive  fuller  treatment. 

The  development  and  conditions  here  were  pecu- 
liar, and  in  their  historical  elucidation  nmst  be  met  in 
the  plainest,  most  practical,  and  fitting  way.  Within 
the  present  half  century  a  vast  wilderness  had  been 
transformed  into  fields  of  the  foremost  civilization,  by 
men  many  of  whom  were  yet  living.  No  such  achieve- 
ment since  the  world  beoan  had  ever  been  done  within 
so  short  a  time ;  obviously  none  such  could  ever  be 
done  again,  the  engendering  conditions  not  being 
present.  Thousands  of  years  were  occupied  in  build- 
ing Greece  and  Rome,  and  other  thousands  in  car- 
rying civilization  to  Germany  and  England;  and  all 
midst  fanatical  wars  and  horrible  human  butcheries 
such  as  should  put  to  blush  the  face  of  man. 

Among  the  various  nations  and  at  various  epochs 


Lit.  Ind.    48 


754 


TOWARD  THE  END. 


great  men  were  evolved  from  the  fierce  frictions  of 
tlie  times,  soldiers,  priests,  and  princes,  some  of  them 
conspicuous  because  of  their  good  deeds,  but  more  of 
them  by  reason  of  their  wickedness.  Evil,  in  fact, 
was  apparently  a  more  powerful  factor  than  good  in 
all  these  kneadings  and  seasonings  and  polishing  of 
mankind.  But  in  the  develo])ment  of  our  own  thrice- 
favored  land,  this  westernmost  America,  there  was 
little  else  than  good  accomplished,  and  by  good  men. 
There  were  no  wars,  except  the  war  of  mind  over 
matter,  of  civilization  over  savagism.  There  was  no 
physical  bondage  or  intellectual  coercion.  Yet,  turn- 
ing to  our  towns  and  cities,  our  fruitful  fields  and  or- 
chards and  gardens,  with  their  thousands  of  happy 
homes;  our  railways,  irrigating  canals;  our  mines, 
manufactures,  and  commerce;  our  government  and 
our  social  condition,  we  find  accomplished  within 
fifty  years  what  elsewhere  has  taken  other  people 
five,  ten,  or  a  hundred  times  as  long  to  do. 

True,  we  had  a  record  of  their  experiences  as  a 
foundation  upon  which  to  build  our  new  experiences 
in  this  fair  wilderness;  otherwise  it  could  not  have 
been  done.  But  for  all  that  it  was  a  great  and  good 
thing  to  build  here  as  we  have  built,  thus  making 
proper  avail  of  our  high  privileges.  And  are  not  the 
men  who  have  quietly  and  patientl}'  wrought  out  this 
grand  accomplishment,  each  laboring  after  his  own 
fashion  and  for  his  own  inuncdiate  purposes— arc 
they  not  as  much  entitled  to  prominence  and  praise 
as  Alexander  or  Napoleon?  Is  it  not  as  interesting 
to  us,  the  str.dv  of  their  characters?  Is  it  not  as 
profitable  for  us  to  follow  them  in  their  good  deeds 
as  to  follow  the  others  in  their  good  and  evil  deeds  i 

It  was  therefore  deemed  absolutely  essential,  before 
it  could  be  said  that  a  proper  historical  presentation  of 
the  country  and  those  who  had  made  it,  of  the  empire 
and  builders  of  empire,  had  been  made,  that  the  his- 
tory have  a  biographical  section,  devoted  primarily  to 
the  men  as  the  historical  section  proper  is  devoted 


•CHRONICLES  OF  THE  BUILDERS.' 


iOU 


primarily  to  the  events.  For  it  is  as  impossible  to 
stop  the  natural  atitl  proper  flow  of  the  narrative  of 
events  with  a  too  lengthy  and  elaborate  analysis 
of  L-haracter,  as  it  is  to  break  into  an  entertaining 
and  instructive  biography  with  a  too  lengthy  narra- 
tive of  events. 

At  the  same  time,  here  was  an  opportunity  to  do 
much  better  than  simply  to  present  a  collection  of 
detached  biograj>hies  of  the  most  influential  and 
prominent  personages  after  the  usual  form,  howso- 
ever good  and  valual)le  such  a  work  would  be  in  con- 
nection with  the  history.  But  what  would  make  it 
tenfold  more  interesting  and  valuable  would  be  to 
take  one  each  of  the  more  important  of  these  nun  of 
strencfth  and  influence,  and  after  a  thorouu'h  charac- 
tcr  study,  i)lace  his  portrait  in  artistic  form  and 
colors  in  the  midst  of  the  wt)rk  which  lie  has  done, 
and  in  company  with  kindred  industries  accom}>lislicd 
b}'  others,  and  round  the  whole  throw  a  frame-woi  k  of 
history.  Here,  then,  are  embalmed  in  the  annals  of 
his  own  time  and  countrv  the  man  and  his  dt  eds, 
th(>re  to  remain,  the  benefits  and  blessings  conferred 
during  life  thus  being  made  perpetual. 

In  the  text  and  foot-notes  of  the  histor}'  proper  I 
had  interwoven  much  material  of  a  biographical  nature 
■ — all  that  the  narrative  could  carry  without  being 
nuide  to  sutler  thereby.  But  this  was  not  enough. 
The  work  which  had  been  performed  in  the  subjuga- 
tion of  this  western  wilderness  was  not  that  of  any 
potentate  or  general ;  it  was  not  a  conquest  or  a  colon- 
ization. This  I  "st  and  fairest  [)iecc  of  temperate  zone, 
unoccu[)ied  by  civilization,  had  seemingly  been  kept 
back  tor  a  s[H?cial  j)urpose  of  progress.  Then,  when 
all  was  ready,  the  great  bt'lls  of  time  were  sountled, 
and  from  every  quarter  of  the  world  intelligent  and 
enerofetic  youn<»'  men  came  flocking  in — the  crv  f>f 
gold  was  rung  out,  the  cry  of  American  occupation 
and  intercommunication;  and  after  some  wild  doings 
incident  to  such  an  unprecedented  huddling  of  hu- 


\ 


I      ! 


756 


TOWARD  THE  END. 


manity,  this  land  of  liitherto  poor,  brutisli  men  and 
ferocious  beasts  found  itself  blooming  serenely  un- 
der a  new  influence.  Of  the  vast  army  who  came 
hither  for  gold  many  returned,  and  many,  alasl  laid 
down  their  lives  in  tlie  struggle.  But  some  perse- 
vered in  their  efforts  and  prospered,  success  coming  out 
of  great  tribulation.  Others  came  later  and  accom- 
plislied  great  things.  Meanwhile  all  were  gaining 
experience,  and  constantly  adding  to  their  store  of 
practical  knowledge.  It  was  in  this  way  that  devel- 
opment over  tliis  vast  area  came  so  rapidly  about.  It 
was  owing  primarily  to  the  original  and  ever-growing 
intelligence  of  certain  individuals,  one  working  here, 
one  tlicre,  until  the  whole  ground  was  covered,  and 
each  locality  made  to  yield  up  some  portion  of  its 
natural  wealth,  while  the  arts  and  sciences  of  older 
communities  were  applied  toward  increasing  the  pos- 
sibilities of  primeval  nature. 

Now,  it  seemed  not  exactly  right  or  proper,  in  a 
history  of  this  country  giving  the  full  details  of  in- 
dustrial and  social  development,  to  allow  the  events 
to  render  subordinate  to  so  large  an  extent  the  men 
who  had  made  the  events.  Had  some  Ca3sar  or 
Scipio  crossed  the  Rocky  mountains  with  an  army, 
taken  possession  of  this  land,  and  planted  here  tlii' 
institutions  of  foreign  culture,  as  a  matter  of  cour^' 
a  history  of  this  country  would  have  dealt  largely  in 
the  characteristics  and  doings  of  tliosc  men,  military 
and  civil.  The  fact  that  in  the  subjugation  of  this 
country  there  were  engaged  not  one  Csesar  or  Scipio, 
Init  several,  and  that  their  work  was  in  building  iiji 
rather  than  tearing  down,  makes  certainly  not  less 
interesting  or  important  a  chronicle  of  the  characteris- 
tics and  doings  of  these  builders  of  the  commonwealtli. 

The  importance  of  biography  is  not  everywheir 
fully  appreciated.  Every  man  of  strength  or  intln- 
enco  in  the  community  should  have  prepared  duriii  .;• 
his  lifetime  his  biography,  for  the  benefit  of  those 
now  livinij,  and  of  those  wIjO  shall  come  after  him. 


'CHRONICLES  OF  TIIE  BUILDERS.' 


757 


Tho  mail  of  energy  and  ability  is  a  fiietor  in  the 
affairs  of  liis  country.  No  one  can  achieve  hi<'h  and 
permanent  success  without  benefiting  others.  L  [)ou 
tliG  ovents  and  tictuahties  wliich  surround  the  indi- 
vidual, and  which  he  himself  has  made,  he  leaves  his 
inqu-ess,  wliich  is  his  life,  his  true  being,  the  crystal- 
lization of  his  thoughts,  the  material  expression  of  his 
feelings.  Whether  he  be  living  «)r  dead,  there  is  the 
man  in  the  spot  where  he  lived  and  moved,  and  where 
he  lel't  himself,  iiis  true  and  material  ey.ist'Micc,  when 
the  innnaterial  took  its  departure.  He  may  soon  be 
forgotten,  and  his  place  filled  by  others,  but  his  suc- 
cessors, whether  they  know  it  or  not,  are  continuing 
the  work  which  he  began,  and  building  on  the  founda- 
tion which  he  had  laid.  A  record  of  pers(Mial  experi- 
ences  is  of  importance  to  the  country  as  showing  by 
what  means  the  man  has  accomplished  cer'tain  results, 
thus  enabling  others  to  do  likewise  or  better.  "A 
noble  life  ])ut  fairly  on  record  acts  like  an  inspiration 
to  others,"  says  Samuel  Smiles.  And  again,  "The 
great  lesson  of  biogi-aphy  is  to  show  what  a  man  can 
do  and  be  at  his  best";  while  Beecher  would  have 
biography  called  the  home  aspect  of  history. 

After  securing  all  the  comforts  and  luxuries  of  life 
for  himself  and  his  family,  for  what  does  a  man  fur- 
ther labor  ?  If  of  a  miserly  disposition,  ho  wt)rks  for 
the  mere  pleasure  of  accunmlating  money.  IJut  if 
intelligent  and  public-spirited,  he  continues  his  labors 
for  their  general  i)ene(icial  effects,  and  for  the  interest 
and  pride  he  takes  in  them.  Now,  it  is  evident  that 
if  those  beneficial  effects  of  a  man's  life  can  be  doubled 
or  trebled,  can  indeed  bo  rendered  perpetual,  nothing 
can  be  of  more  transcendent  importance  than  to  have 
it  done.  This  can  be  done  only  by  writing  out  the 
acts  and  experiences  of  a  man's  life  in  the  form  of  a 
l)iography,  and  placing  that  biography  in  histcry. 

The  advantages  of  history  are  manifold  and  obvious. 
Without  the  recorded  experiences  of  the  race  there 
could  be  no  accumulation   of  knowledge ;  without  a 


I 


li 


lii 


758 


TOWARD  THE  END. 


knowk'tlge  of  tlic  past  thcro  could  be  no  iiiipi ovcMiitMit 
in  the  future.  So  with  biograph}',  wiiicli  is  but  a  part 
of  history.  With  a  knowledge  of  the  means  by  which 
men  become  great  and  prosperous  we  may  learn  to 
adoj)t  their  virtues  and  avoid  their  errors.  There- 
fore, not  only  should  every  man  who  has  hel}>ed  to 
make  history  have  his  biography  fully  and  carefully 
prepared,  but  it  should  be  placed  in  history.  The 
next  question  is,  who  has  helped  to  make  history? 
Every  man  oif  intelligence,  wealth,  and  influence  as- 
sists in  making  history  in  a  greater  or  less  degree, 
according  to  what  he  accomplishes  He  cannot  help 
dt'inLT  this,  for  history  is  the  reci  rd  of  what  men  do. 
Nor  can  it  be  delayed  until  \>c  liave  passed  away, 
for  other  reasons.  No  one  can  call  up  the  facts  and 
intuitions  of  his  life,  the  theory  and  practice  of  his 
achievements,  so  well  as  the  man  liimself;  no  one  can 
arrange  those  facts,  analyze  the  intuitions,  elucidate 
the  benefits  of  what  has  been  accom[)lished,  and  weave 
the  whole  into  an  instructive  and  entertain inu;  nari-a- 
tive,  except  a  writer  possessed  of  ability,  enthusiasm, 
and  experience.  And  granting  that  the  most  proper 
place  for  the  preservation  of  such  a  record  is  upon 
the  pages  of  history,  the  history  of  the  place  aiid  times 
during  which  the  work  was  done,  it  cannot  be  de- 
layed on  that  account,  for  the  pages  of  the  only  his- 
tory upon  which  it  could  be  placed  in  a  proper  manner 
will  then  be  closed. 

The  reasons,  then,  why  the  lives  and  experiences 
of  certain  men  should  be  embalmed  in  history  are: 
First,  for  the  benefit  of  the  conununity  and  the  world. 
Without  a  preserved  record  of  hun)an  actions  there  can 
be  no  progress,  no  civilization.  Second,  as  a  matter 
of  duty  to  one's  family.  In  the  building  up  of  this 
country  each  important  personage  has  performed  a 
great  work,  not  a  tenth  part  of  which,  in  significance 
and  extent,  will  ever  otherwise  be  known  to  his  de- 
scendants, who  will  thereby  be  deprived  of  sonic 
portion   of  that   honest  pride,   high   stimulant,   and 


bri 


'ClIiiOiNlCLES  OF  THE  BUILDERS.' 


75S) 


bright  oxamplo  which  is  their  most  valued  heritage. 
Third,  it  is  a  duty  a  mau  owes  to  himseU'.  All  his 
lit'o  he  has  beeu  working  tor  a  jjurpose,  and  if  wlieu 
it  is  accomplished  he  permits  to  die  the  ways  and 
means  by  which  he  attained  important  results,  halt' 
his  lite,  to  say  tlie  least,  is  lost.  The  wealth  one  has 
acquired  is  not  all  nor  the  most  important  part  of 
life's  work,  but  the  abilities  exercised,  the  lessons 
acquired,  and  the  nobleness  of  soul  which  has  been 
elevated  and  strengthened. 


During  the  earlier  part  of  the  long  period  the  liis- 
tory  was  going  into  type,  the  movements  of  tlic  family 
were  regulated  to  a  great  extent  by  my  youngest  )>oy, 
Philip.  Being  naturally  not  very  strong,  and  the 
])enetratlng  whids  driving  him  from  San  Francisco, 
we  would  visit  the  several  springs  and  health  districts 
of  the  coast  as  fancy  or  interest  dictated,  never  beini-- 
wholly  out  of  reach  of  the  ])nntcr. 

I  had  long  had  in  view  a  visit  to  Salt  Lake  City 
and  the  Colorado  region,  so  that  when,  in  August 
1884,  the  boy  began  to  cough  in  accents  so  familiar 
tliat  there  was  no  mistaklnL»"  their  siucnificancc;,  we 
picked  him  up — liis  mother  and  I — and  ])lanted  our- 
selves with  the  whole  family  at  the  Continental  hotel 
in  the  city  of  the  saints,  there  remaining  for  six  weeks. 

There  was  much  feeling  existing  at  the  time  between 
the  Mormons  and  the  gentiles,  the  government  being 
apparently  in  earnest  in  putting  down  polygamy,  while 
the  Mormons  were  just  as  determined  to  maintain  the 
institution  or  die  in  the  attempt.  It  was  just  upon 
the  border,  in  point  of  time,  of  the  lo»ig  season  of 
prosecution  and  ])ersccution,  of  litigations  and  im})ris- 
onments  which  has  not  a  parallel  in  the  history  of 
American  morals. 

We  were  not  there,  however,  to  take  part  in  any 
controvers}'',  to  enter  the  fight  either  on  the  side  of 
Christ  or  Belial ;  we  had  come  simply  to  gather  facts, 
observe,  &tudy,  and  meditate  upon  the  strange  social 


'!   li 


I 


7G0 


TOWARD  THE  END. 


problem.  I  should  probably  have  known  lonpr  ere 
this  how  to  answer  the  question,  What  is  Mormonisni  i 
but  I  did  not.  Nor  would  there  be  entire  unanimity 
among  divines  in  answering  tlie  questions,  What  is 
Methodism?  or  Mohannnedism?  Very  shallow  ideas 
the  world  has  in  relation  to  the  dogmas  it  fights  and 
bleeds  for,  on  one  side  or  the  other.  There  was  fight- 
ing enough  for  dogmas  in  Salt  Lake  City  in  the  year 
1884.  There  were  few  like  Christ,  few  to  love  their 
enemies,  or  turn  the  other  cheek  when  one  was 
smitten. 

We  saw  nmch  of  the  leaders  on  both  sides,  were 
entertained  by  gentiles  and  jVIormons,  and  entertained 
theni  in  return ;  we  listened  attentively,  but  said  little ; 
it  was  no  wonder,  therefore,  that  we  were  regarded 
somewhat  suspiciously  by  both  sides.  All  this  was  ol 
small  consequence,  however,  beside  tlie  accomplish- 
ment of  our  mission,  wliich  was  fully  done  in  every 
particular.  There  was  little  the  Mormons  would  not 
do  for  us ;  there  was  little  we  desired  at  the  hands  of 
the  gentiles. 

Notwithstanding  the  large  mass  of  material,  printed 
matter,  manuscripts,  journals,  dictations,  and  special 
investigations  which  had  been  sent  to  me,  there  were 
still  gaps  in  my  work  that  I  wanted  filled.  John 
Taylor,  who  was  present  and  severely  wounded  at  the 
assassinatlt)n  of  Joseph  Smith,  was  at  this  time  presi- 
dent of  the  church,  and  W^ilford  Woodruff,  one  of  the 
twelve  apostles  and  possible  successor  of  Taylor,  had 
charge  of  the  historian's  office. 

For  these  people  had  had  a  historian's  office  and  an 
historian  from  near  the  bciiinniui;  of  their  existence  as 
a  religious  sect.  The  acts  of  the  apostles,  and  the  do- 
ings of  president  and  people  from  the  beghmlng,  had 
been  mhiutely  written  down  and  preserved.  And,  in- 
deed, far  back  of  the  history  of  their  present  organi- 
zation they  went — back  to  babel  and  the  origin  of 
things.  The  book  of  Mormon  comprises  largely  their 
history,  as  the  bible  is  the  history  of  the  Jews.     Some 


UTAH  AND  COLORADO. 


761 


of  tlio  babol-builders,  after  the  jjjmiul  soattorinn;,  found 
tlieir  way  to  America,  aiul  were  tlie  al>origii»es  of  tliis 
continent,  amoni^  wlioni  lonjj;  lay  liiiklen  the  metal 
plates  eventually  found  by  Joseph  Smith. 

Mr  Woodruff  had  an  elaborately  written  journal  in 
some  twenty  maimseript  volumes,  if  I  niiiember 
ri<'htlv,  ivivin*'  a  liistorv  of  the  church  and  the  doiii'jjs 
of  its  members  from  tlie  days  of  Nauvoo  to  date. 
Never  before  had  such  work  been  done  for  any  peo- 
ple, not  even  the  chiklrcn  of  Israel;  for  there  was 
not  one  important  incident  or  individual  herein 
omitted.  Mr  Woodruff  and  Mr  Kichartis  gave  up 
most  of  their  time  to  me  during  this  visit.  Besides 
my  labors  with  them,  I  took  many  lengthy  dictations 
from  others.  I  met  freciuently  George  Q.  Camion, 
first  counsellor;  Joseph  F.  Smith,  niiphew  of  Joseph 
Smith;  Brigham  Young,  eldest  son  of  the  s(!coiid 
president;  I^Foses  Thatcher,  W.  B.  Preston,  William 
Jennings,  Feramorz  Little,  Heber  J.  Grant,  H.  S. 
Eldridge,  Erastus  Snow,  C.  W.  Penrose,  John  11. 
Park,  and  a  hundred  others. 

While  I  was  laborously  engaged  in  this  office  dur- 
ing most  of  my  time  in  Salt  Lake  Cit}^  Mrs  Ban- 
croft saw  many  of  the  Moi'mon  women,  making  their 
acquaintance,  winning  their  friendship,  and  taking 
dictations  from  them.  PfJygamy  wdth  them  was  a 
sncred  institution,  a  state  not  to  be  lightly  entered, 
but  only  after  tlue  pre])aration,  prayer,  and  holy  liv- 
ing; a  cross,  perlia[)S,  but  one  which  only  the  blessed 
might  bear.  Hovering  in  sjiace  all  round  the  revolv- 
ing cai'th  were  myi'iads  of  disemlxxlitxl  spirits,  for 
w^hom  it  pleased  God  that  men  should  manufacture 
flesh.  Nor  with  the  men  was  ])o]ygamy  the  product 
of  sensuality;  your  true  sensualist  will  have  many 
women  but  no  wife. 

From  Utah  we  went  to  Colorado,  stopping  at 
Canon  City,  Leadvillc,  Pueblo,  Colorado  Si)rirgs,  and 
other  points  of  historic  interest  and  imjiortanc  .  We 
were  everywhere  received  with  tiie  utmost  cordiality. 


;   i 


^11 


:c,-2 


TOWARD  THE  END. 


o 


It  would  1)0  difficult  to  find  anywhere  ploasantcr  poo- 
])lo,  or  a  more  intelliu;ent  or  ri;lined  society  than  at 
Denver.  I  sliidl  never  forget  tlic  kindness  (»f  Doctor 
Bancroft,  <ifovi'rnorhi  Pitkin,  C^rant,  and  lioutt,  and 
judujes  Stone,  Bennett,  IJcck,  and  Helm. 

Colorado  was  at  this  time  in  a  very  prosperous  con- 
dition, and  the  people  were  justly  ]»roud  of  their  state, 
of  its  history,  its  resources,  and  its  possihilitics.  By 
supj)lying  myself  pretty  freely  with  help  in  the  form, 
f  stenoi^raphers  and  statisticians,  I  secured  the  ex- 
])erienccs  of  several  hundred  of  those  who  had  had 
the  most  to  dt)  in  luakinin'  the  eaily  history  of  tliis 
rej^ion.  AmouL;"  the  manuscripts  thus  resultiuij;  was 
one  which  nmst  ever  constitute  the  corner-stones  of 
Coloratio  history.  Nearly  two  months  were  occu)»ied 
in  writing  it,  and  the  work  on  it  was  done  in  this  way: 
Taking  a  full  file  of  the  liocky  Mointfaiii  Kcirs,  the 
first  journal  ])ul)lished  in  the  country  and  still  running, 
I  sat  down  hefore  it  with  a  stcaiographer  and  its  first 
editor,  who,  while  I  questioned  and  commented,  told 
the  history  of  the  state,  turning  over  the  leaves  of  the 
newspaper  to  refresh  his  memory,  and  give  him  the 
desired  information. 

Judge  Stone's  ideas  and  experiences  form  a  very 
hiteresting  historical  manuscript.  He  assured  me 
that  the  topography  of  Colorado  was  in  his  mind's 
eye  as  clear  as  if  seen  at  one  view  from  the  corner  of 
a  cloud ;  and  I  found  his  knowledge  of  political  and 
commercial  affairs,  and  the  resources  and  industries 
of  the  state  no  less  lucid  and  interesting. 

While  my  family  were  at  Denver,  enjojang  the 
•onerous  hosjntality  of  tlio  good  people  of  the  place,  I 
Knit  a  fortnight  at  Cheyenne,  mnno;  through  files  of 
i  wspapers,  and  writing  out  the  experiences  of  the 
1  'ominent  men.  In  this  and  subsequent  labors  in  re- 
Lition  to  the  history  of  Wyoming  I  was  greatly 
assisted  by  John  Slaughter,  territorial  librarian,  A. 
S.  Mercer,  of  the  Lire  Stock  Joimml,  John  W.  Ho\'t, 
J.  M.  Carey,  J.  R.  Whitehead,  F.  J.  Stanton,  E.^S. 


WYOMING  AND  NEW  MIIXICO. 


763 


ir 


N.  Morji^an  torritorbl  seen  tarv,  A.  T.  UabVitt,  Tlios. 
Sturi^^is,'  W.  AV.  O.rlctt,  uu.'  oilicrs.  Tli.ii  at 
liaraiiiio  were  S.  W.  Downey  and  T.  ][.  Ifayf'ord; 
at  Lander,  N.  Baldwin  and  ]  [.  G.  Nickerson  ;  not  to 
mention  the  coinniandini^  ofHcerH  of  tlie  militiiry  ;it 
forts    Kussell,     Steele,     Laramie;,     !^[eKinney,     and 

I'iU't  of  tlio  winter  of  lfi8-l-5  I  spent  in  Xew 
^Mexico,  wla^'e  I  liad  interviews  with  most  of  the 
leadinjij:  men,  and  ohtained  a  laiLjo  mass  of  mattirial 
which  was  an  ahsoluto  necessity  to  my  work.  At 
Santa  Fu  I  I'xamined  the  archives  tliorou^ldy,  and 
engaj^ed  Samuel  Ellison,  the  keeper,  to  «;'o  tlirough 
tliem  and  miiko  extracts  from  some,  and  coni[)lete 
copies  of  all  of  the  important  pa]>ers  and  manuseri[>ts. 
After  a  time,  liowever,  findinij  the  task  to<>  slow  and 
irksonK!  for  him,  l»eniijj  an  old  man  and  somewhat 
avi'rs«;  to  lahor,  he  finally  consented,  contraiy  to  the 
I'egulations,  hut  greatly  to  my  satisfaction,  to  send  to 
mo  in  San  Franc-lsco  hi  liundles,  hy  ex})ress,  a  portion 
at  a  time,  of  such  matcsrlal  that  I  wanted  copied,  that 
1  nnght  liave  tht;  work  done  hi  my  lihrary. 

I  cannot  re  frani  from  mention  nig,  simong  those  who 
rendered  mo  valuahlo  assistance  at  Santa  Fc,  the 
names  of  C.  B.  Havward,  W.  Ct.  Bitch,  Francis 
])owns,  Archhishop  Lamy,  Defouri,  Prince,  Thayer, 
Fisko,  Phillips,  and  the  Chaves;  at  All)U({uer({uo  and 
Taos,  the  Armijos  and  the  Valdez ;  and  at  Las 
Cruces,  Cunnilfe  and  Van  Patten. 


I  cannot  mention  in  this  volume  a  hundredth  part 
of  the  journeys  made,  the  people  seen,  and  the  work 
done  in  connection  with  the  lahors  of  ov(U' a  (|iiart(;r 
of  a  century,  collecting  material  and  writing  histoiy, 
but  enough  has  been  presented  to  give  the  reader 
some  faint  conception  of  the  time,  labor,  and  money 
necessary  for  such  an  historical  undertaking. 


Referring  once  more  to  niv  method  of  writing  his- 


;  !:li 


764 


TOWARD  THE  KND. 


tory,  wliicli  originated  wholly  with  mo,  and  grew  out 
of  the  necessities  of  the  case,  I  would  remark  on  the 
general  shyness  of  the  wise  men  of  the  east  at  first 
to  sec  any  good  in  it,  or  ever  admit  that  work  so  done 
could  properly  be  placed  in  the  category  of  history ; 
then,  finally,  to  sec  them  come  round,  and  not  t)nly 
neknowledLje  its  advantaLjes,  and  assert  that  it  was 
the  oidy  feasible  way  to  accomplish  certain  results, 
but  to  adoi>t  the  system  themselves,  ajiply  it  to  im- 
portant work,  and  give  it  out  as  of  their  own  hiventiou, 
or  at  least  to  take  good  care  not  to  give  the  credit 
where  It  properly  belonged. 

The  men  of  Harvard  particularly,  always  slow  to 
acknow]('<lLie  the  existence  of  anv  iiood  thiiiu:  outside 
of  .heir  own  coterie,  least  of  all  to  admit  tliat  a  San 
Francisco  bookseller  could  teach  them  how  to  write 
history,  were  puzzled  how  they  might  sometime  apply 
tliis  system  to  important  work  and  send  it  forth  ;is 
their  own.  They  did  it  cleverly  enough,  for  them, 
wlien  the  occasion  arose,  but  they  did  not  decei\e 
many.  They  were  obliged  to  modify  my  method 
somewhat,  therebv  almost  spoilinii-  it;  for  tlu'v  were 
not  prepared  to  spend  the  necessary  time  and  money 
to  give  ten  or  twenty  assistants  t(>n  or  twenty  years 
schooling.  So  thtn'  adopted  a  middle  course,  which 
was  neitlier  one  thing  nor  tlio  other,  neither  the  old- 
fashioned  individual  wav,  where  no  work  of  anv  kind 
is  admitted  unless  performed  by  the  historian  in  per- 
son, therebv  reducing  the  })ossibilities  of  liis  })erforni- 
ancc  to  a  mlninmm,  nor  the  modern  scientific  method, 
as  the  Sncremento  /iVt'or(/-('?i/o?i  at  once  pronounced  it, 
where  the  assistance  of  others  is  utilized  to  a  com- 
mon-sense extent. 

Some  ten  years  after  the  publication  of  my  Nat  ire 
lidccs,  began  to  a[*pear  in  Boston  what  the  prospectus 
called  "History  by  a  new  method."  With  two  ex- 
ci  ptions  the  opening  line  of  the  })rospectus  might  be 
accepted;  it  was  not  history,  nor  was  the  method 
new.  It  was  by  Justin  Winsor,  of  the  Harvard  univer- 


HATvV.VTvD  lIYrOCIlISY. 


76S 


sity  library,  and   was   called   Narrative  and   Critical 
Jlisfori/  of  .[yncrica. 

Croat  stress  is  placed  upon  the  method,  whicli  is 
called  the  "cooperative."  That  is  to  say,  one  man 
actin'ji:  as  editor,  <'ives  to  twenty  or  fiftv  men  each  a 
topic  on  American  history  for  lum  t<>  write  u]>,  tlm 
int(Mition  bi'ing  that  all  the  topics  given  out  shall  be 
n)ade  to  cover  the  entire  range  of  Anu^rican  history. 
As  these  monographs  are  finished  and  IuukUmI  in  they 
are  printed,  each  under  the  name  of  the  writer,  aiul 
sent  forth  in  volumes  which  are  dignified  by  the  name 
of  history. 

"The  magnitude  of  the  undertaknig,"  the  pros- 
pectus goes  on  to  say,  "the  dignity  of  the  subject, 
and  the  acknowledged  ability  of  the  writers  employed, 
give  the  work  a  strong  claim  upon  public  attention: 
yet,  without  undervalunig  tliese  considerations,  it  will 
1)0  found  that  they  are  overshadowed  l)y  the  sur[)ass- 
ing  value  of  the  method  employed  in  its  construction. 
The  inductive  method  of  l^acou,  and  the  coujparative 
method  in  the  ai)plied  sciences,  are  cxamj)les  of  pos- 
sibilities contained  in  a  true  method;  they  have  revo- 
lutionized modern  civilization.  It  is  claimed  for  this 
work  that  it  embodies  a  true  method  for  historical  in- 
vestiuation.which  nmst  prove  far-reaching  in  Its  results. 
....  Adherence  to  tliis  method  of  investigation  will 
gradually  tend  to  bring  history  into  line  with  thi; 
sciences,  instead  of  leaving  it  as  a  subject  for  debate 
among  rival  historians.  We  shall  have  less  of  sju'c- 
ula^ion  and  theory,  and  more  of  verifiable  facts.  The 
temj>tation  to  warp  the  truth  will  be  lessened  by  in- 
creased danger  of  detection.  The  practical  \alue  of 
this  is  ap}»arent,  when  we  consider  lu)w  often  our 
course  is  determined  by  precedent.  Wiien  the  supe- 
riority of  the  cooperative  method  is  fully  understood, 
the  individual  historian,  if  he  ventures  forth  at  all, 
will  be  read  for  entertahnnent  rather  than  profit." 

Aafain:  "The  great  advantage  of  this  method  in 
historical  research  must  be  apparent.     The  outcome 


1 1 


7GG 


TOWARD  THE  EXD. 


of  conflicting  statements  when  they  arc  brought  to- 
gether, analyzed,  and  compared,  must  be  a  closer  ap- 
proach to  tlie  truth.  History  as  heretofore  written 
has  failed  to  accomplish  these  results,  for  two  reasons: 
First,  the  labor  and  special  knowledge  required  to 
secure  all  relevant  evidence  have  been  beyond  the 
powers  of  any  individual  however  able.  The  coopera- 
tion of  specialists  is  needed  for  this  work  just  as  in 
the  writing  of  a  cyclopedia.  The  subject  covers  too 
much  ground  for  the  researches  of  a  single  individual. 
To  fully  possess  tlio  field  an  army  must  bo  organ iz(>d 
and  act  under  competent  leadership.  The  day  is  not 
far  distant  whon  the  attem])t  to  write  a  history  or  a 
cyclopedia  single-handed  will  be  regarded  as  equally 
futile.  Individuals  may  philosophize  on  historv  in 
the  future  as  they  have  in  tlie  past  with  excellent 
results,  but  tlie  presentatioii  of  the  facts,  with  a 
complete  ajialysis  and  digest  of  the  evidence  collected, 
nmst  be  made  by  the  coo[)eration  of  many  minds. 
Second,  in  attempting  to  deduce  correct  conclusions, 
the  individual  can  only  report  an  event  as  it  app(>ars 
to  liim  from  his  point  of  observation.  In  other 
words,  he  can  give  but  a  one-sided,  partial  view  of  the 
matter.  A  synthesis  of  o])inion  is  what  is  needed  to 
secure  a  complete  presentation  of  the  case.  Therefore 
many  witnesses  must  be  summoned  to  testify  In- 
depend(Mitly,  and  this  is  manifestly  impossil)le  und(>r 
the  ol<l  method,  where  the  reader  is  not  permitted  to 
iud'/o  of  the  relative  merits  of  conflictin<jf  statements, 
upon  which  the  writer  bases  his  views,  but  must 
accept  or  reject  as  a  whole  his  author's  dictum." 

This  is  hideed  high  ]iraise  of  my  metjiod  coming  from 
such  a  ^;our('e,  and  all  tlie  more  significant  not  being 
intend(!(l, — all  the  more  sijuificant  In  coming  from  a 
quarter  wh(;re  this  kind  of  work  Avas  not  long  since 
ridicul(>d  as  **  machine-made  history,"  and  from  those 
who  W(>re  endeavoring  to  secure  to  themselves  tin* 
crecht  justly  belonging  to  another.  True,  they  claim 
that   by  permitting  the  several  writers  to  speak  for 


COorERATIVE  HISTORY-WRITING. 


767 


tl?emsolvcs  i.nd  intlcpcndently,  instead  of  having  their 
work  recast  and  made  symmetrical  by  one  master 
mind,  that  the}'  have  invented  a  new  system  ;  but  it 
is  the  same  system  as  my  own,  though  on  a  some- 
what different  plan,  in  my  opinion  not  nearly  so  good 
a  one,  and  one  that  will  not  produce  the  same  results. 

But  tlio  strangest  part  of  it  all  to  mo  is,  tliat  mou 
who  can  expatiate  so  well  and  so  learnedly  on  the 
benefits  of  this  system,  should  understand  it  so  little 
as  not  to  know  wlien  tliey  tliemsclves  were  or  wer<^ 
not  applying  it.  They  speak  of  the  advantages  of 
what  they  kindly  call  the  cooperative  method.  But 
surely  any  one  can  see  that  there  Is  no  cooperation  in 
their  work.  Eacli  one  working  alone,  in  his  own 
closet,  after  his  own  fashion,  presents  in  his  own  way 
and  words,  his  ideas  of  some  previously  selected  to[>ic 
or  eplst)de  of  American  history  ;  and  because  these 
several  essays  arc  printed  in  one  volume,  or  series  of 
volumes  bearing  a  connnon  title,  the  labor  is  called 
cooperative,  each  laborer  seeming  to  think  that  while 
workino"  entirelv  alone,  he  has  been  ureatlv  assisted 
by  tlie  others,  likewise  working  alone,  and  that  the 
•general  work  is  ixreatlv  benefited  therebv. 

Cooperati(»n,  one  would  think  it  scarcely  necessary 
to  sav,  is  where  all  the  workmen  contribute  of  tlieir 
intelligence  and  skill  to  one  grand  result,  not  to  a 
s«!rics  of  results.  An  arcliitect  mav  build  a  house, 
utilising  the  labc^r  of  a  Imndred  artisans,  all  cooperat- 
ing to  Olio  end;  it  makes  ({U(>er  work  of  it  when  eacli 
of  tlu*  artisans  constructs  a  section  of  a  building  after 
his  own  fancv,  exnectinL!"  a  svnunetrieal  e<lilice  to 
come  out  of  it.  In  historical  ellbrts,  as  in  any  other 
kind  of  labor,  coo[H.'ration  is  where  several  [tersons 
unite  to  labor  as  one  man,  for  the  accom})lislinient  of 
a  single  work.  Writing  me  Sept(Mjd)er  21,  LSSG, 
A.  W.  Tourgee  says:  "J  tried  to  j;ct  an  article  into 
nn  eastern  magazine,  on  Cooperative  Historical  W(»rk, 
compaiing  your  system,  wliieh  is  homogeneous  and 
comprehensible,    with     Justin    Winsor's    hotch-i)ot, 


11 


708 


TOWAJID  THE  END. 


every  mouthful  of  wliioh  is  a  surprise,  but  wliicli 
leaves  no  uniformity  of  impression  or  coherence  of 
tliought;  but  I  found  the  idea  was  sacrilegious  iu 
this  latitude." 


CHAPTER   XXX. 

BUKNET)  OUT! 

Mi'rntyy.  "  What's  liest  for  us  to  do  tlicn  to  got  safe  across?" 
('l)'tmti.  "I'll  toll  you.  Ycm  must  all  strip  before  you  get  in,  and  leavi^ 
all  those  ctieuiuhraiiees  on  shore;  and  even  then  the  Ixiat  will  searee  liold 
you  all.  An<l  you  take  care,  Mercury,  that  no  s.iui  is  admitted  that  is  not 
in  light  marching  order,  and  who  has  not  left  all  his  eneuiuhrancos,  as  I  say, 
liehind.  Just  stand  at  the  gang-way  and  overhaul  thoni,  and  dou't  let  tlicni 
got  in  till  they've  stripped.'  Liiri'iii. 

Hin'c  was  a  pretty  liow-do-you-do  !  Wliile  I  wa.s 
buviini;  farms  and  building  liouses  in  San  Dic<>o,  and 
droaiiiing  of  a  short  period  of  ri'pose  on  this  eartli 
before  being  called  upon  to  make  once  more  an  inte- 
ijral  part  of  it,  in  tlie  twinklinof  of  an  eve  I  was 
struck  down,  as  if  by  a  thunderbolt  from  heaven. 

For  twenty  years  past  I  had  Ijeciii  more  tlian  ordi- 
narily interested  in  this  southern  extrcMnity  of  tju; 
state,  with  its  soft  sunshine  and  beautiful  liay,  the 
only  break  iu  the  California  coast-Hm^  south  of  San 
Francisco  tliat  could  l)e  ])roperly  called  a  liai'bor,  and 
I  had  chipped  in  from  time  to  time  a,  few  thousands 
for  lots  and  blocks,  until  satisfied  tliat  I  had  enouL!,]i, 
when  the  threat  connnercial  metropolis  of  tlu^  soutli 
should  arise;  upon  tlie  spot,  to   ru'in  all    my  cliildren. 

Many  times  lu-forc!  this  I  had  temporarily  sou;j,]it, 
shelter  for  myself  and  family  from  the  cold  winds  and 
fog-s  of  San  Francisco,  often  in  th(!  Napa  country,  and 
many  times  in  the  Ojai  valley,  and  elsi'where.  Tlicn 
I  wondered  if  there  was  not  some  ])lace  more  accessi- 
ble to  my  work,  which  would  answer  the  purpost;  as 
well. 

Ever  since  1  850  I  liad  i)een  gazing  on  the  high  hills 
back  of  Oakland  and  Berkel(;y,  wondering  what  was 
on  the  other  side;  and  one  day  I  said  I  will  go  and 

Lit.  iNn.    49.  U'W) 


ilii 


770 


BURNED  OUT  I 


see.  So  I  mounted  a  horse,  and  wound  round  by 
San  Pablo  and  througli  the  hills  until  I  came  to 
Walnut  creek,  and  beyond  there  to  Ignacio  valley, 
near  tlic  base  of  Monte  ])iablo,  where  1  bought  land, 
and  planted  it  in  trees  and  vines. 

It  was  a  broad  and  beautiful  patch  of  earth,  flat  as 
possible,  and  covered  with  large  scattering  oaks,  look- 
ing like  many  other  parts  of  primeval  California,  only 
that  the  trees  were  larger,  indicating  unusual  dep  h 
and  strenL'th  of  soil.  The  sun  rises  over  the  Devil's 
mountain,  and  the  cool  southwest  wind  comes  over 
the  higli  Oakland  hills  fresh  from  the  ocean,  tlui  in- 
frequent dry,  hot,  north  winds  alone  taking  atlvau- 
tage  of  the  open  country  toward  Martinez.  It  went 
against  the  grain  to  grub  up  tlie  venerable  oaks;  but 
oak  trees  and  fruit  trees  do  not  aii.Iiate,  and  Bartlett 
pears  are  better  than  acorns,  so  all  were  cleared  away 
except  a  group  left  for  building  sites  and  shelter  of 
stock. 

For  the  most  part  it  was  a  perfect  climate,  the  heat 
of  sunnner  seldom  being  enervatini;,  and  but  little 
frost  in  winter;  but  I  was  growing  querulous  over 
California  airs,  and  said  I  "anted  them  quieter  and 
softer  than  those  which  followed  me  even  here,  car- 
I'vino;  their  thick  focf-banks  to  the  summit  of  tlu* 
hiixhest  westerlv  hills,  and  scattering  them  in  fine  iit 
mists  filled  witli  sunshine  over  the  valleys  below.  So 
we  took  the  train,  my  wife  and  I,  and  started  south, 
stopping  at  Pasadena,  Riverside,  and  elsewhere,  all 
of  whirl  1  were  too  settled,  too  civilized  for  us.  Then 
we  came  to  San  Diego,  native  enough  for  any  one, 
tlie  cobbley  country  around  looking  so  diy  antl  barren 
and  forbidding  that  a  week  of  exploration  in  every 
direction  was  passed,  setting  out  from  our  hotel  in 
the  early  morning  and  driving  till  night  before  we 
found  a  place  in  which  were  s»  -  mingly  united  all  the 
requisite  possibilities.  There  we  were  satisfied  to 
rest,  and  then  we  made  our  purchase. 

Spring  valley  it  was  called,  from  a  large  perpetual 


THE  HELtX   FARMS. 


771 


Spring  nature  had  forniod  there;  and  it  was  the  most 
attractive  of  any  spot  within  ten  nules  of  the  future  nie- 
troiKjHs.  Tlic  nominal  proprietor  \vus  C^iptain  Tl.  K. 
Porter,  who  wrote  fcr  the  pnpers,  drove  two  liumhh^ 
mustangs  to  town  with  eggs  and  hutter,  and  was  of 
an  easy  and  amiable  disposition ;  but  the  true  owner 
was  his  most  excellent  wife,  under  whose  management 
the  farm  and  husband  barely  made  (snds  nieet. 

YA  aguaje  de  San  Jorge  tlie  place  had  been  named 
by  the  early  Mexicans,  and  l)y  the  first  Americjuis 
tl'.e  St  George  water-hole.  In  connnon  with  the 
country  thereabout  it  had  l)een  used  as  a  sheep  range, 
the  springs  serving  as  a  herding  point  and  watering 

4)]ace,  an  old  Mexican  camping  there  with  his  famil}'. 
Che  padres  also  liere  raised  vi.'getahles  and  fruit  for  the 
mission.  Not  long  after  the  year  18(50  a  San  Diego 
lawyer,  Judge  Ensworth,  who  was  in  ill  health,  ob- 
tained a  possessory  claini,  and  spent  a  portion  of  his 
time  at  this  charming  spot.  He  walled  up  the  spa- 
cious springs,  and  purchasing  from  Captain  Bogcit 
a  portion  of  the  lately  broken  up  coal  ship,  Clarlsm 
Andrews,  with  difficulty  had  it  hauled  over  to  the 
ground,  and  used  it  in  the  erection  of  an  adobe  house. 

Upon  the  death  of  Ensworth,  Porter  purchased  the 
place  and  moved  his  family  there  from  San  Pedro  in 
18G5.  Around  him  subsequently  settled  Burbnk, 
Campbell,  and  Crosby,  from  whom  I  purchased  land, 
which  with  the  Porter  place  made  up  a  tract  of  five 
hundred  acres  and  m(»re.  The  place  I  called  the 
Helix  Farms,  and  entered  in  my  book  of  life  to  spend 
my  latter  days  there.     I  then  returned  north. 

Keep  at  hard  work  too  long  an  old  horse  and  he 
becomes  worthless,  but  if  care  be  taken  to  lighten  liis 
burdens  as  strength  and  endurance  fail,  he  will 
perform  much  good  service  during  his  latter  days.  I 
was  now  reaching  the  period  when  I  felt  it  absolutely 
necessary  to  turn  myself  out  to  grass  or  succumb 
entirely. 

I  was  born  on   a   'arm;  my   earliest  recollections 


i!  lil 


BURNED  OUT  I 


were  of  farm  life;  my  diildhoocl  homo  had  hecn  there, 
and  if  there  were  any  rist  and  reeupiration  for  me  on 
earth  I  was  sure  it  would  be  under  Hl\e  conditions. 
My  work  was  nearly  done.  I  had  no  furtlier  dt^sirc 
to  mino'le  with  tlie  affairs  of  the  world.  I  was  eon- 
tent  with  what  I  had  accomplished;  or  at  least  all  I 
could  do  I  had  done,  and  I  was  sure  +hat  in  no  way 
could  I  better  become  young  again  than  in  spcniUng 
nmeh  time  with  my  little  (mes,  in  teachinL;'  tliem  Jiow 
to  work  and  bo  useful,  as  my  devoted  parents  had 
taught  me. 

it  was  on  the  30th  of  April,  1880,  that  I  was 
standing  on  the  ste|)s  of  the  Florence  hotel,  at  San 
Diego,  when  my  wife  drove  up  in  her  phaetcm  and 
handed  me  a  telegram.  "They  said  it  was  im[)or- 
tant,"  she  remarked,  and  vyvd  me  earnestly  as  1 
opened  and  read  it.  "What  is  it  r'  she  askrd.  "Is 
it  bad?"  "About  as  bad  as  can  be,"  I  replied.  It 
was  from  Mr  N.  J.  Stone,  manager  of  the  History 
(le[)artment  of  the  business,  and  it  I'ead,  "Store  burn- 
ing. Jjittle  hope  of  saving  it."  Half  an  hour  lat(M' 
came  another  despatch,  saying  that  nothing  was  saved 
bat  the  account  books. 

The  full  effect  of  this  calamity  flashed  through  my 
bra  HI  on  the  instant:  mv  beautiful  building,  its  lofts 
filled  to  overflowing  with  costly  merchandise,  all  gone, 
the  rf>sults  of  thirty  years  of  labor  and  economy,  of 
headaches  and  heart-aches,  eaten  up  by  fire  in  an 
hour  1  I  say  the  full  eilect  of  it  was  upon  me  ;  yet 
the  blow — though  it  felled  me,  seemed  to  strike  softly, 
as  if  coming  from  a  gloved  hand,  I  w;is  so  powerk-ss 
to  oppose  it.  1  continued  the  duties  of  the  day 
as  usual.  I  was  then  building  for  my  wife  a  sunnner 
residence  overlooking  the  charming  bay;  but  many 
days  of  sorrow  antl  anguish  were  in  store  for  me  by 
reason  of  this  infernal  fire. 

In  this  same  hotel,  seven  months  before,  I  had  read 
of  the  Crocker  fire,  a  similar  catastrophe  hajjpening 
to  a  house  of  like  business  to    ours.     And    I    then 


WIIOLKSALK  DEf^TRUCTlOX. 


773 


I 


tliouojht,  "tliis  iiii;_(]it  as  well  liavc  lucn  Ilaiici-oft. 
but  liow  tUtKieiit  tlu'  nsult  to  mc  ajid  liuiidicds  of 
otlic'is."  As  La  Rochot'oucauld  says :  "Nous  avous 
tous  jissez  dc  force  pour  supporter  Ics  maux  daiitrui." 
Wo  arc  all  stionir  cuough  to  endun;  tlio  misfortunes 
of'otlu'rs.  And  now  it  was  indeed  Bancroft,  and  idl 
tlioir  fine  estaMislnnent,  tlie  Itiri^cst  juid  finest,  in 
western  America,  swe})t  awjiy  in  tlie  midst  of  a 
desperate  strug^Lde  to  ]»ropei-]y  place  my  histories  ujiou 
the  market.  Twenty  vohmies  had  been  issui-d,  and 
the  firm  was  still  >5-()0,000  )»e]iind  on  the  enter|Mise. 
But  it  was  oaiiiiii'''.  ^Davliiiht  shone  as  tln'oU''h  a 
tunnel  in  the  distanci^ ;  the  last  month's  business  had 
been  the  most  encouraginsi;  of  all;  when  suddenly, 
oiHce,  stock,  pa])ers,  correspondence,  ]»rinting-]»ri'sses, 
tvi>e  and  plates,  and  the  vast  book-biiuk'ry,  fiile<l  \\  1th 
sheets  and  Ixtoks  in  every  stage  of  binding,  wt're 
V)lotted  out,  as  if  seized  by  Satan  and  hurled  into  the 
jaws  of  hell.  There  was  not  a  book  left;  there  was 
n(»t  a  volume  of  history  saved;  nine  volumes  of 
histor}'  plates  were  destroyed,  besides  a  dozen  other 
volumes  of  plates;  tw(t  car  loads  of  histojy  paper  had 
just  come  in,  and  12,000  bound  volumes  were  uv- 
voured  by  the  flames.  There  was  the  enter])iise  left, 
and  a  dozen  volumes  of  the  history  plates  in  the 
library  basement,  and  that  was  all. 

1'he  loss  thus  in  a  moment,  of  over  half  a  million 
of  dollars,  above  all  that  any  ])ollcies  of  insurance 
would  cover,  was  not  the  worst  of  it.  Our  facilities 
for  work  were  gont;,  machini'ry  ilestroyed,  and  business 
coimcctions  suvldenly  snap[)ed  ;  at  -'.oon  with  one  of 
the  largest  stocks  in  Ameiica,  at  night  with  nothing 
to  sell  I  I  went  down  to  tln^  train,  st()Wed  myself  away 
in  a  sleeper,  and  came  to  San  Francisco,  knowing  1 
had  to  face  the  brunt  of  it,  and  endure  the  loiig-<lrawn 
agony  of  the  catastro[)he.  My  daughter  was  with 
me.  Friends  and  sympathizers  met  me  at  Martinez. 
It  was  Sunday  when  1  arrivotl  and  wi-nt  to  my 
city    quarters.      I    kept    my    room    until    Tuesday ; 


774 


BURNED  OUT  I 


then  pulled  myself  toi^etlier  and  went  down  among 
tlie  boys,  who,  poor  fellows,  W(!re  ready  to  cry  when 
they  saw  me  enter  the  miscuuhle  rooms  on  Geary 
street,  to  which  they  had  been  forced  to  fly  with  their 
))ooks.  I  really  felt  more  for  them  than  for  myself, 
as  many  of  tliein  had  been  dependent  on  the  business 
for  a  livelihood  for  a  quarter  of  a  century,  and  they 
had  wives  and  little  ones  to  feed.  And  my  poor 
wifel  I  felt  for  her,  from  whom  I  was  forced  to  part 
so  abrujttly.  But  most  touchiiii:^  of  all  was  the  sym- 
pathy of  the  children.  Paul  said,  "l^ipa  shall  have 
my  chicken-money  to  help  build  his  store,"  as  he 
turned  his  face  frpin  his  motlier  to  hide  his  tears. 
At  another  time,  looking  at  a  new  shot-gun,  he  said, 
"I  am  glad  we  have  that  gun,  for  now  papa  will  not 
have  to  buy  one."  Little  Philip  would  work  all  dav 
aiul  all  niglit,  and  another  bantling  persisted  in  going 
about  gathering  nails  in  an  old  tin  can  for  two  davs 
for  his  father. 

It  is  such  testimonials  as  these  that  touch  the 
strong  man  to  the  quick,  and  not  the  formal  letteis 
of  sym])atliy  and  condolence  that  he  gets. 

It  takes  time  to  get  accustomed  to  tlie  new  ord<  r 
of  things.  I  wander  about  the  city  and  note  the 
many  changes  of  late;  I  admire  the  new  style  of 
architecture, and  note  the  lavish  expt>nditurc  of  the 
bii;  bonanza  men  arid  others  in  the  innnediate  vicinity 
of  my  still  smoking  ruins,  and  I  feel  sad  to  think 
that  I  have  no  longer  a  stake  in  this  proud  and 
wealthy  city.  For  my  ground  nmst  go.  It  is  heavily 
mortgaged  for  money  with  which  to  print  and  pub- 
lish my  history.  Seventeen  years  ago  I  gathered  it 
up  piece  by  jjiece,  as  I  could  get  it,  and  pay  for  it, 
paying  for  one  piece  $0,000,  and  for  the  one  of  like 
dimensions  and  equal  value  adjoining  $12,000,  thus 
buying  sev(!n  lots  in  order  to  make  up  one  of  tlie 
size  I  wanted.  And  now  it  must  all  <>'t)  into  the 
caj)aci()us  maw  of  some  one  not  fv)olish  enough  to 
write  and  publish  history. 


A  UVING  DEATH. 


775 


It  makes  one's  heart  sore  thus  to  walk  al>out  old 
fiiiniliar  haunts  and  feel  one's  self  a  thin*;  of  the  past. 
Neither  the  streets  nor  the  sunshhie  have  the  saiii(> 
si;jfnlficanco  as  formerly.  They  are  not  my  streets; 
it  is  not  my  sunshine;  I  am  an  hiterloper  here;  I  am 
the  L^host  of  a  dead  man  stalking  about  the  i)laces 
formerly  frequented  while  living. 

Deatli  is  nothing,  however.  Every  silent  stab  of 
tlie  inuumeral)le  incidents  that  every  day  arise  brings 
its  death  pang.  To  die  once  is  to  get  (»tl'chea)»ly  ;  tt» 
die  Hfty  times  a  day  even,  one  may  become  somewhat 
accustomed  to,  and  so  endure  it  without  flinchnig. 
]3ut  tlie  wife  and  little  one's;  ah!  there's  the  rub; 
all  through  my  life  of  toil  and  self-abnegation  I  had 
looked  forward  to  the  proud  position  in  wliicli  I  miglit 
leavi!  them,  ])roudor  by  far  than  any  secured  by  nioiu-y 
alone,  for  I  m'lglit  easier  liave  made  ten  millions  than 
have  ct)llected  this  librurv  and  written  this  historv. 
I  nmst  come  down  in  my  pretensions,  however,  there 
is  no  lielp  for  it. 

For  thirty  years  I  have  had  a  bookstore  in  tliis 
town,  and  tlie  first  and  finest  one  here,  or  within  two 
thousand  miles  of  the  place.  Whenever  I  walked 
the  streets,  or  met  an  acquaintance,  or  wanted  money, 
or  heard  the  bells  ring  for  church,  or  drove  into  the 
park,  or  drew  to  my  breast  my  child ;  whenever  I 
went  home  at  night,  or  down  to  business  inthemoi'ii- 
ing,  or  out  to  my  library,  or  over  to  my  farm,  I  had 
this  bookstore.  And  now  I  have  it  not.  I  have 
none.  I  never  shall  have  one  a<'ain.  It  is  I  wlio 
should  have  been  destroyed,  and  not  this  hive  of  in- 
dustry which  provided  food  for  five  hundred  mouths. 

I  drop  into  a  system  of  rigid  economy  in  personal 
expenses,  though  I  well  know  that  the  little  I  can 
save  in  this  way  will  make  no  difference.  But  there 
nmst  have  been  a  comfort  in  stintinu:  mvself,  and 
making  my  body  feel  the  plnchings  of  poverty  that 
my  soul  f 'It. 

For  days  and  weeks  I  studiously  avoid  passing  by 


776 


BURNED  OUT  I 


tlio  rharrod  remains  of  inv  ho  lately  proud  ostahlish- 
mont.  I  nuvor  liked  looliliinj  on  a  corpse,  and  hero 
was  my  own  corpse,  my  own  smoulderinjj;  remains,  my 
dead  hojH's  and  aspirations,  all  tlie  fine  ]>lans  and  i>ur- 
]M)ses  of  my  life  lyin<^  here  a  heap  of  ashes,  anil  I 
could  not  hear  to  look  upon  them. 

Half  of  the  time  dur'in>jj  those  dnvs  I  was  sick  in 
hed  with  nervous  prostration.  Dav  after  dav  and  far 
into  the  night  I  lay  there  with  an  a})pi'oximate  state- 
ment of  the  condition  of  my  finances  in  my  hand,  liold- 
in'jf  it  befon^  mv  eves  until  I  could  not  seethe  figures. 
It  seemed  as  lonu^  as  I  had  it,  and  held  it  where  I 
could  see  it,  that  I  was  thus  meeting  the  issues  which 
I  nuist  ])ri'S('ntly  tight  out  as  soon  ns  I  could  stand  on 
my  legs.  It  was  the  long  and  lingering  suspi'nso 
that  ]Mled  up  the  agony;  if  I  was  to  he  hangcil,  and 
could  know  it  at  once,  face  it,  and  have  it  over,  I 
could  nerve  myself  for  the  emergency;  but  to  keep 
myself  neiA'i'd  to  meet  whatever  might  come,  not 
kn(»\ving  what  that  would  be,  required  all  my  forti- 
tude and  all  my  strength. 

So  far  as  the  mere  loss  of  money  was  concerned, 
or  that  I  should  bo  lield  in  less  csteom  by  my  fellow- 
men,  I  cared  nothing  for  that.  I  never  loved  money; 
few  and  sim[)l(!  were  my  wants;  I  desired  to  be  held 
only  in  siu-li  esteem  as  I  deserved,  and  that  estima- 
tion most  men  have  in  the  community,  themselves  or 
their  enemies  to  the  contrary  notwithstanding. 

A  sense  of  obligation  in  regard  to  the  duties  of 
life  rests  to  a  greater  or  less  degree  u})on  most  men. 
Wo  do  iSi  0  like  to  see  wrong-doing  triumph,  or  tlie 
innocent  made  to  suffer;  we  do  not  like  to  see  pecu- 
lation in  office,  bribery  among  ofl[icials,  or  the  greed 
of  monopolists  eating  up  a  comnmnity;  we  do  not 
like  to  see  the  young  squander  their  inheritance,  or 
women  and  preachers  gambling  in  stocks.  Somewliat 
similarly,  we  do  not  like  to  see  an  old  estal)lis]ied 
business,  a  credit  and  almost  a  necessity  to  the  com- 
munity, which  year  after  year  lives  and  grows,  giving 


AN  IXOri'OllTl'Ni:  TIME. 


777 


RUppoi-t  to  scores  of  families,  Inroino  oHlitrrated. 

Thd'e  arc  pcrsoiis,  pai'ticiilarly  niiiniiM-  woiiicii,  wlic 
si'Ciii  nl»l(^  to  oiuhui-  no  end  of  life's  l)ulletiii;j^^s  and 
never  know  it.  Tliey  do  not  soeni  to  reall/e  tliat 
their  lot  is  so  much  Larder  than  tlirt  of  others,  never 
haxin;^-  tasted  the  suiu'i'ior  joys.  Fromhirth  to  d(  ath 
theirs  is  the  u'olden  mean  of  sorrow,  their-  wnt  s  Ik  iny 
so  well  distrllmted  by  a  kind  lieavenly  fatlier,  that 
without  some  i^n-at  woo  to  rouse  them  they  never  an- 
awan;  of  their  eurrent  misery. 


W 


hat  a  blessui^;"  your  library  was  not  burned, 
the  old-womanish  men  wt>uld  say.  "It  was  jtrovichii- 
t'lal  that  you  had  moved  It."  Blessing!  There  was 
no  l)lessin<r  about  it.  It  was  altoj^i'ther  a  curse;  a 
cursed  and  contemptible  dispensation  of  providence, 
if  that  is  the  orthodox  term  for  bad  luck.  And  of  a 
truth  I  should  have  felt  relieved  if  the  libiarv  had 
o'ono  too,  and  so  brought  my  illustrions  career  to  a 
dose.  I  felt  with  Shylock,  as  well  take  my  history 
as  take  from  me  the  means  of  completiiii;-  my  history 
I  could  curse  mv  fate;  but  with  more  show  of  reasoK 
curse  the  management  which,  uidcnown  to  me,  hail 
cranuned  full  to  overtlowniii'  ei^ht  laroe  floors  witli 
])reci()US  merchandise  in  order  to  take  advanta^i'  of 
low  fi'ei!j;hts,  at  the  same  tunc  cuttinjr  down  the  vol- 
ume of  insurance,  so  that  when  the  match  Avas  applied 
in  the  basement  of  the  furniture  store  adjohnn;.:.  and 
a  two-hours'  blajce  left  only  a  heap  of  ashes,  tht'  old 
business  should  be  killed  as  tlead  as  possii)!c.  Oh! 
there  was  plenty  to  curse  about  in  those  days,  but 
hard  to  see  anv  yood  come  of  it. 

The  business  had  not  been  very  popuittr  of  late;  it 
had  not  been  conducted  upon  the  U!(»st  liberal  or 
high-mhided  basis;  it  had  many  competitors  and  con- 
sc^quently  many  enemies;  hence  thousands  were  made 
ha[)py  by  its  fall.  I  do  not  know  how  we  all  could 
have  oone  to  work  to  confer  the  pfreatest  pleasure 
upon  the  greatest  number  so  cifectually  as  in  bui  uing 
up  our  establishment.     Yet  aome  were  kind  enough 


778 


BURNED  OUT ! 


to  say  that  it  was  a  public  calamity;  that  there  was 
nothing  now  in  the  country  which  might  properly  be 
called  a  bookstore,  as  compared  with  what  ours  was, 
and  all  that. 

We  knew  better  than  others  what  such  words  sic-- 
niried;  that  mercantile  houses  like  ours,  as  it  lately 
stood,  could  not  be  built,  any  more  than  mountains 
could  bo  made,  or  systems  of  knowledge  evcjlved,  in  a 
(lay.  I  had  been  thirty  y(.;ars  in  tliis  work  of  crea- 
tion; I  had  not  another  thirty  years  to  devote  to  a 
similar  work;  therefore  I  knew  I  never  should 
have  another  such  a  bookstore. 

But  there  were  other  things  hi  the  world  besides 
bookstores;  if  I  could  get  rest  from  severe  strain  I 
would  be  satisfied:  but  I  could  do  anythiiijjf  now  Ijut 
rest.  To  be  or  not  to  be  was  the  question.  Should  1 
make  a  struggle  to  recu})erate  my  fortunes,  or  sjjould 
I  lay  down  my  weary  bones  and  drift  as  comfortably  as 
I  might  into  the  regions  of  the  unconscious.  Were  I 
to  consider  myself  alone  ;  had  I  no  work  to  do  aft'ect- 
ing  others,  otlier  ])ersons,  other  prhiciples  than  the 
best  preservation  of  self,  I  could  tell  quickly  what  I 
would  do.  I  would  choose  some  sunny  hillside  and 
there  follow  with  my  eyes  tlie  rising  and  setting  of 
the  sun,  until  the  evening  should  come  when  I  might 
uo  down  with  it. 

The  qu(>stion  was  not  what  I  would  like  to  do,  but 
what  ouulit  I  to  <lo.  To  be  influenced  bv  what  would 
make  me  the  most  luip])y  or  miserable  was  putting  it 
upon  ratlier  a  low  plane.  One  man's  hap})iness  or 
misery  for  a  few  yea  is  is  a  small  matter;  small  to  his 
fellow-men,  who  arc  thinking  of  themselves,  sniall  to  his 
maker,  who  has  set  u[)  the  universe,  apparently  upon 
the  principle  of  the  greatest  misery  to  the  greatest 
number;  and  need  not  be  of  surpassing  solicitude  to 
iiimself,  if  he  stops  thinking  about  hims(>lf,  his  hap[)i- 
ness  or  misery,  and  goes  about  his  business  in  tlie 
spirit  of  doing  in  the  best  manner  he  can  the  thing 
which  most  of  all  requires  next  to  be  done. 


WHAT  SHALL  I  TRY  TO  DO? 


779 


To  be  or  not  to  be,  tliat  was  the  question.  Beinj^ 
dead,  were  it  not  better  to  bo  buried  ?  I  was  tired, 
as  I  said  ;  I  could  easily  sink  out  of  sight,  an<l  lie  at 
rest  beside  my  sei)ulc]ired  hopes.  This  would  be  the 
easiest  way  t)ut  of  tlie  difficulty.  But  I  Jiad  never 
been  accustomed  to  the  easiest  wav,  or  to  regard  mv 
pleasure  as  tlie  first  consideration  in  life.  To  do  as 
best  I  was  able,  every  day  and  every  liour,  the  tliiiiijj 
nearest  me  to  be  done,  whether  I  liked  it  or  not— that 
had  been  the  unwritten  code  by  wliicli  I  had  regulated 
my  con(kict;  and  all,  wliether  I  would  or  not,  and  all 
without  knowing-  it,  I  could  now  no  more  deviate  from 
that  course  than  I  could  cliaiiLje  mv  nature.  J*]xeent 
in  moments  of  deepest  depression,  and  tlieii  for  only  a 
moment,  did  T  tlihik  of  such  a  thing  as  giving  up.  To 
face  the  detail  of  going  over  tlie  dead  i)usiness  t<>  save 
wliat  could  l)c  saved  sickened  me  bevond  measure,  ])ut 
I  had  to  swallow  the  dose.  I  ofiered  togive  the-  rem- 
nant t)f  tlie  bushiess  to  anv  one  wlio  would  assume  the 
res])ons'il)ility,  and  save  me  the  trouble  and  annoyance 
of  cleaning  it  up;  but  no  one  would  take  it,  and  I  was 
therefore  compolleil  to  do  it  myself. 

I  say  there  were  other  things  than  myself  to  be 
considered;  indeed,  myself  was  but  a  small  part  of  it. 
There  was  the  history,  and  the  men  engaged  on  it, 
and  the  ])ledges  which  had  been  made  to  the  i)ublic 
and  to  sul)sc  -ibers.  "Ah,  ves,"  thev  would  sav,  "this 
might  have  'mvmi  expecteil,  and  so  we  are  left  with  a 
broken  S!  t  oi  books  on  our  hands."  There  was  the 
business,  and  a  large  body  of  creditors  that  must  be 
paid.  There  was  mv  familv,  and  all  who  should  come 
after  me;  if  I  .should  fail  myself  .md  others  now,  who 
would  ever  after  rise  up  and  retrieve!  our  fallen  for- 
tunes ?  No;  I  could  do  now  a  hundred  times  more 
than  any  one  of  them  could  probably  do  at  any  time 
hereaftei",  and  I  would  try  to  do  it.  though  the  effort 
should  grind  me  to  powder.  Then,  too,  it  was  not  in 
the  power  of  man  so  const'tuted  and  so  disciplined  as 
I  had  been  to  sit  down  beside  the  business  I  had  us- 


780 


BURNED  OUT! 


tablisliod  in  my  boyliood,  and  labored  to  ,su^staln  and 
build  up  all  throui^hout  my  lit'o,  and  see  tlio  li^ht  of  it 
go  out,  become  utterly  extinguislied,  making  no  effort 
to  save  it. 

After  all,  tlie  burning  of  gunpowder  is  but  the  sud- 
den eliange  of  a  solid  into  a  gas,  tliough  the  effect  is 
sometimes  terril)le  ;  the  burning  of  a  bookstore  is  but 
the  ehanghig  of  merchandise  into  smoke  and  ashes, 
but  a  thousand  hearts  and  niin<ls  and  lives  may  be  af- 
fected or  wholly  changed  thereby.  S«>  I  set  about 
considerino'  as  coollv  as  I  could  the  position  i>f  thin<>s, 
what  mi<>ht  be  done,  what  miijjht  not  be  done,  ai.d 
what  it  were  best  to  try  to  do. 

The  situation  must  be  consideivd  from  several  rjoints 
of  view.  Building  and  business  being  both  cut  eff, 
I  had  not  a  dollar  of  income  in  the  world.  I  did  not 
deem  it  ])ossible  to  rterect  tlm  storc\the  former  build- 
ing being  heavily  mortgaged.  I  offered  tlu;  lot  for 
sale,  but  no  one  would  buy  at  a  fiir  price.  It  took 
two  months  to  ascertain  whether  the  l)usiness  was 
solvent  or  not ;  for  although  most  of  the  account- books 
had  bi-en  saved,  there  were  goods  and  in\oices  in  tran- 
sit, and  new  statements  of  accounts  Jiad  to  bo  obtained 
from  every  (juaiter. 

Until  the  state  of  the  l)usines8  could  be  definitely 
known,  I  could  make  no  calculations  about  anything. 
I  miglit  have  to  sell  all  I  had  to  pay  the  debts  of  the 
firm.  Above  all,  it  minht  be  utterlv  bcvond  the  (luts- 
tion  to  continue  the  publication  of  the  history.  This 
would  be  indeed  the  greatest  calamity  that  could 
bel'all ;  for  in  that  event,  without  liattering  myself 
that  the  woi'ld  at  large  would  regard  the  matter  in 
a  serious  light,  to  me,  and  to  those  more  inmuHhately 
interested  in  and  dependent  u[ton  me.  all  would  be 
lost,  not  only  j)rt)j)erty  and  life,  but  that  for  which 
life  and  pro])erty  had  been  givi'U.  A  half-finished 
work  would  be  comparatively  valueless;  and  not 
only  would  no  one  take  up  tlie  broken  tlireads  and 
continue  the  several  narratives,  i)Ut  there  would  be 


RE-ADJUSTMENTS. 


:si 


little  hope  of  tlio  woi'k  ever  bcinsTf  noain  attciii))tc(l 
hy  any  one  on  tlie  extensive  and  tliorouiji'h  jiltin  I  hud 
marked  out.  It  is  true  that  nuich  of"  the  work  that 
I  had  accomplished  would  be  useful  in  the  hands 
of  another,  w'hether  working  in  conjunction  with  or 
under  the  direction  of  some  society  or  government, 
or  in  a  private  capacity;  the  question  was,  however, 
would  any  govern ment  or  individual  undertake  it  • 
The  collected  materials  would  never  diminisli  in  im- 
portance, but  rather  increase  in  value  as  time  passed 
by,  and  the  indices,  prepared  at  such  a  large  expen- 
diture of  time  and  labor,  would  always  be  regarded 
of  jirimary  necessity,  as  the  only  means  by  which  vast 
stores  of  knowledge  could  be  reached. 

As  I  have  before  remarked,  it  is  a  matter  worthy 
of  some  thought  how  tiie  great  libraries  of  the  future 
are  to  i)e  made,  wlien  th(!  rai"e  and  valuahle  books 
wliicl;  constitutt'  tlie  choicest  feature  of  all  thi'  more 
important  collections  cannot  l)e  obtained.  Of  some 
of  the  appar(Mitly  essential  early  works,  it  is  only  at 
wide  intervals  that  a  copy  can  now  l)e  obtained.  As 
time  goes  by  the  intervals  will  become  wider,  and  the 
books  impossible  ti)  obtain  will  increase  in  numher, 
until  even  large;  collections  will  be  made  up  of  books 
which  ar(>  now  easily  obtained.  Some  of  these  will 
in  time  become  scarce;  and  so  it  will  continue,  until 
in  a  hundred  years,  wIkmi  America  will  have  fifty  fine 
libraries  for  evtuy  one  which  now  exists,  compara- 
tively few  of  the  hooks  which  foi'm  the  basis  of  the 
best  libraries  to-day  will  he  found  in  them. 

J;)Ut  to  return  to  mv  affairs  so  o-reatlv  disarrangi^d 
by  this  unfoi'tunate  fire.  I  ke[>t  the  old  store  lot,  for 
the  reason  befoi-e  intimated,  becaiise  I  could  not  sell 
it,  buyei's  seeming  to  think  it  a  special  imposition  if 
they  could  not  profit  by  the  fire.  When,  finally,  I 
saw  that  I  need  not  sell  it,  the  savings  banks  sending 
me  word  that  if  I  wanted  to  rebuild  to  come  around 
and  get  the  money,  I  saw  in  it  a  hundred  thousaml 
dollars  better  for  me  than  any  offer  I  cijuld  get  for 


782 


BURNED  OUT! 


the  lot.     Then  I  determined  to  go  on  and  rebuild, 
and  at  once  started  out  to  do  so. 

Then  there  was  the  library  work  to  be  considered. 
While  comparatively  speaking  I  was  near  the  end,  so 
near  that  I  could  beoin  to  think  of  retiring  to  farm 
life,  and  a  vovaije  of  several  vears  around  the  world 
as  an  educating  cxj)edition  for  my  children,  yet  I  had 
niucli  to  do,  and  this  fire  added  a  hundretl  fold  to 
that,  even  should  it  be  proved  possible  to  complete 
tlie  work  at  all.  I  had  tliem  make  out  for  me  at  tlie  U- 
b  "  a  schedule  showing  tlie  exact  condition  of  the 
wo  what  had  been  done,  what  remained  to  be  done, 
what  plates  had  been  destroyed  and  wliat  remained, 
and  an  estimate  of  the  probable  time  and  expense  it 
would  require  to  complete  the  history.  Two  years 
and  twelve  thousand  dollars  were  the  time  and  money 
estimated,  but  both  time  and  money  were  nearly 
doubled  before  the  end  came. 


It  was  interesting  to  observe  the  diverse  attitudes 
assumed  b}"  different  persons  after  the  fire,  the  actions 
of  various  persons,  friends  and  enemies,  in  the  busi- 
ness and  out  of  it.  I  wii  enumerate  some  of  them 
by  classes  and  individuals.  First,  and  by  far  the 
largest  class,  to  the  honor  of  humanitv  be  it  said,  were 
honest  and  hearty  sympathizers,  of  high  and  low 
degree,  who  regarded  our  business  as  a  useful  one,  its 
objects  in  the  main  praiseworthy,  and  its  loss  a  public 
calamity.  Another  class,  large  enough,  but  not  so 
large  as  the  other,  was  our  enemies,  mostly  business 
competitors,  who  had  long  been  envious  of  us,  and 
were  now  delighted  at  our  discomfiture.  As  I  have 
said  before,  few  fires,  of  a  private  nature,  ever  occurred 
which  made  more  people  happy. 

A  singular  phenomenon  was  a  shoal  of  business 
sharks  which  sailed  in  around  us,  seeking  something 
to  devour.  It  is  useless  citing  examples,  but  I  was 
surprised  beyond  expression  to  find  among  the  com- 
mercial and  industrial  ranks,  doing  busuiess  with  every 


TRUE  AND  FALSE  FRIENDS. 


783 


claim  to  honesty  and  respectability,  those  scarcely 
inferior  to  highway  robi)ers;  real  estate  sharpeis, 
swindling  contractors,  and  lawyers,  hunting  for  some 
loop-lidle  to  get  a  finger  in — men  who  by  rights 
should  be  within  the  walls  of  a  penitentiary.  It 
was  then  that  I  first  learned  that  there  were  busi- 
ness men  in  our  midst  whose  pnnciples  and  practices 
were  worse  than  those  of  any  three-carde  montc  men, 
or  other  cheats;  who  lived  and  did  business  only  to 
get  the  better  of  people  by  some  catch,  trick,  swindle, 
or  other  indirection. 

Bedt  jf  all  were  the  true  and  noble  fellows  of  our 
own  establishment,  who  stood  by  us  regardless  of  any 
consequences  to  themselves.  All  were  not  of  tliis 
true  stamp,  however;  there  were  some  from  whom  we 
expected  most,  for  whom  we  had  done  the  most,  but 
who  now  returned  us  only  evil,  sliowhig  bad  hearts — 
but  let  them  ])ass.  It  is  a  matter  for  self-ct)ngratula- 
tion  rather  than  regret,  the  discovery  of  a  traitor  in 
tlie  camp,  of  an  unprincipled  person  in  a  position  of 
trust  and  confidence,  one  held  in  high  esteem,  not  to 
say  afiectionate  regard, — to  find  him  out,  to  know  him 
that  he  might  be  avoided.  It  is  not  tin;  open  enemy 
that  does  us  serious  injury,  but  the  treacherous  friend. 
And  in  truth  I  liavc  encountered  few  such  during  my 
life,  either  in  the  business  or  out  of  it,  few  compara- 
tively. JMost  young  men,  if  ever  they  have  once  felt 
the  impressions  of  true  nobility  and  Integrity,  will  not 
depart  from  tiiem.  Some  forget  themselves  and  fall 
into  evil  ways,  but  these  are  few.  There  is  no  higher 
or  nobler  work,  no  more  pleasing  sight,  than  to  watch 
and  assist  the  unfolding  of  true  nobleness  of  chara-ter 
in  young  men  of  good  impulses.  And  while!  tlure 
are  so  many  of  inferior  ability  seeking  situations,  and 
so  many  situations  waithig  for  competent  persons,  it 
seems  a  pity  the  standard  of  excellence  and  intelli- 
gence is  not  raised. 

There  were  in  the  ranks  of  the  old    business  in- 
stances of  loyalty  and   devotion  which  will   remain 


784 


BURNED  OUT  I 


graven  on  my  heart  forever — men  who,  regardless  of 
tlieir  own  interests,  stood  by  the  wreck,  determined 
at  any  personal  hazard,  any  self-sacrifice,  to  lend  tlielr 
aid  as  long  as  hope  remained.  I  noticed  with  pride 
that  most  of  the  heads  of  departments  thus  remain- 
ing had  begun  tlieir  business  career  with  nie  in  the 
original  house  of  H.  H.  Bancroft  and  Company,  and 
had  been  in  full  accord  with  me  and  my  historical 
work  from  first  to  last;  and  I  swore  to  myself  that  if 
the  business  survived,  these  men  t^hould  never  regret 
their  course,  and  I  do  not  think  they  ever  have.  Nor 
should  my  assistants  at  the  library  be  forgotten,  sev- 
eral of  whom,  besides  quite  a  number  at  the  store, 
voluntarily  cut  down  their  salary  in  order  to  make 
as  light  as  possible  the  burden  of  completing  my 
work. 

In  inanv  varied  moods  were  we  met  by  different 
persons  with  whom  we  had  deahugs.  We  did  not 
propose  to  fail,  or  compromise,  or  ask  an  extension, 
as  long  as  we  had  a  dollar  wherewith  to  pay  our  dcl)ts; 
but  there  v/as  no  usedisgui.ung  the  fact  that  the  busi- 
ness had  received  a  severe  blow,  and  miglit  not  sur- 
vive it.  Among  the  publishers  and  manufacturers  of 
the  eastern  United  States  are  men  of  every  breadth 
of  mind  and  size  of  soul.  Durimjr  this  memorable 
year  we  took  an  inventory  of  them,  sizing  them  up 
at  about  tlu^ir  value.  Nearly  all  of  tliem  extended 
to  us  their  sympathy,  some  of  which  was  heart-felt. 
Quite  a  number  went  further,  and  nianifestcd  a  dis- 
position to  help  us  regain  our  feet;  but  this  amounted 
to  little,  practically,  though  the  feelings  which  prompted 
kind  acts  are  n(.'ver  to  be  despised. 

There  was  a  man  in  Massachusetts,  with  whom  we 
had  no  intiuKite  ni;([uaintance,  and  on  whom  we  had 
no  special  claim.  We  had  bought  goods  from  him  as 
from  others;  but  ho  was  not  like  some  others  of  his 
locality,  wholly  given  to  gain,  with  blootlless  instincts 
and  cold  worship  of  wealth.  He  met  us  openly, 
frankly,  with   something    more   than   machine-made 


BUSINESS  MORALS. 


78S 


sympathy,  and  asked  to  share  with  us  our  loss.  Never 
will  we  forget  the  courtesy  and  kindness  of  this  man, 
or  the  firm  he  represents,  the  minds  and  hearts  of 
whose  members  are  so  far  above  the  millions  they 
command,  ennobling  themselves,  their  families,  and 
whatsoever  merchandise  their  fingers  touch. 

Maojnanimitv,  however,  cuts  no  very  ijroat  fi'j;ure 
in  business  ethics.  It  seems  that  the  jjood  u'old  of 
commercial  morals  must  have  a  reasonable  alloy  to 
make  it  wear.  A  certain  amount  of  cold-blooded  cal- 
culation, not  to  say  dowjiriglit  meanness,  is  essential 
to  business  success.  It  will  not  do  for  a  man  of  af- 
fairs, if  he  would  achieve  any  marked  success,  to  allow 
any  feelings  of  liumanity,  benevolence,  or  kindness  of 
heart  to  stand  in  his  way.  Religion  he  may  bend  to 
his  purpose,  but  must  not  permit  himself  to  be  bent 
by  it.  The  easiest  and  most  economical  way,  as  a 
rule,  in  matters  of  public  opinion  and  policy  is  to  drift 
with  the  tide.  The  most  successful  men,  in  any  (H- 
rection,  are  not  the  best  men.  They  may  l)e  best  for 
civilization,  l)ut  civilization  is  not  the  highest  or  holiest 
good,  nor  does  it  seem  to  be  conducive  to  the  greatest 
happiness.  Civilization  is  not  best  served  by  the  best 
men.  Take  from  progress  and  the  highest  and  keen- 
est intellectual  refinement  the  rascalities  attending 
their  development,  and  the  development  would  be  far 
less  than  it  is. 

The  publishers  and  book-sellers  of  New  York  and 
Boston  as  business  men  are  very  like  other  business 
men,  rather  above  than  below  the  avera<j:e.  A  certain 
amount  of  intelligence,  or  even  learning,  may  be  rul)])ed 
off  from  the  outside  of  books,  coming  hi  life  contact 
with  them  as  book-men  do.  Yet  by  the  more  success- 
ful, books  are  handled  as  others  handle  bales  of  drv 
goods  or  barrels  of  groceries.  A  true  lover  of  books 
is  not  usually  found  among  the  more  prominent  book- 
sellers, to  whom  their  merchandise  is  like  the  mer- 
chandise of  any  dealer  to  him.  There  is  some  little 
business  courtesy  among  the  eastern  booksellers,  but 

Lit.  Imd.    50. 


786 


BURNED  OUT! 


this  does  not  amount  to  much;  if  one  treads  upon  the 
toes  of  another,  the  oflended  one  strikes  back  if  he  is 
able,  if  not,  he  submits  to  the  inevitable.  At  the 
same  time  the  spirit  of  clannishness  is  not  wholly  ab- 
sent, as  instanced  by  the  way  they  all  look  upon  any 
attempt  at  book-publishing  outside  of  their  circle,  or 
rather,  beyond  the  limits  of  their  western  horizon. 
Like  some  of  the  machine-made  presidents  and  pro- 
fessors of  eastern  colleges  and  universities,  they  seem 
to  think  that  all  learning  and  literature,  book-making 
and  book-selling,  should  by  rights  be  confined  to  the 
eastern  sea-board.  But  all  of  them  as  they  grow 
older  will  learn  better ;  or  at  least  the  rising  genera- 
tion should  learn,  though  some  of  these  seem  more 
ready  to  adopt  their  father's  vices  than  to  emulate  his 
virtues. 

More  pertinent  than  these  antiquated  ideas  is  the 
fact  that  the  west  lacks  business  intercourse  and  con- 
nections, the  channels  of  trade  radiating  for  the  most 
part  from  the  east.  But  this  is  being  rapidly  over- 
come. Chicago  is  fairly  in  the  field  in  the  publication 
of  miscellaneous  books,  and  to-day  San  Francisco  is 
sending  more  law-books  of  her  own  manufacture  east 
than  she  receives  from  that  quarter.  And  in  the 
near  future  there  will  be  on  this  western  sea-board 
more  than  one  Mount  Hamilton,  telling  the  world  of 
new  stars. 

As  a  rule,  the  eastern  publishers  of  books  stand 
high  in  the  community  as  men  of  morals,  honesty,  in- 
tegrity, religion,  and  respectability.  And  as  a  rule 
they  deserve  it,  as  I  have  said.  There  are  some 
among  them,  however,  who  cannot  be  placed  so  high, 
notably  some  of  the  educational  book-publishers,  who 
do  not  hesitate  to  resort  to  any  and  every  kind  of 
bribery  and  corruption  to  get  their  books  adopted. 
Many  will  not  do  this,  but  many  again  will.  Surely 
there  should  not  be  anything  so  very  damaging  to 
business  morals  in  the  printing  and  placing  in  use 
books  for  school-children.     But  seldom  do  business 


REMEMBERED  KINDNESS. 


787 


and  politics  meet  except  to  the  injury  of  both.  Fair 
and  honest  dealing  asks  no  aid  from  politics,  and  when 
office-holders  begin  to  handle  the  business  man's  money, 
he  may  bid  farewell  to  honesty  and  integrity. 

On  the  whole,  we  considered  ourselves  very  fairly 
treated,  both  at  the  west  and  at  the  east,  in  the  ad- 
justment of  difficulties  arising  from  the  fire.  The  in- 
surance companies  were  entitled  to  every  praise,  paying 
their  losses  promptly  before  they  were  due.  New 
friendships  were  made,  and  old  friendships  widened 
and  cemented  anew.  I  was  specially  gratified  by  the 
confidence  moneyed  men  seemed  to  repose  in  me, 
granting  me  all  the  accommodations  I  desired,  and 
thus  enabling  me  quickly  to  recuperate  my  fortunes, 
as  I  will  more  fully  narrate  in  the  next  and  final 
chapter. 


3f 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 


THE  HISTORY  COMPANY  AND  THE  BANCROFT  COMPANY. 

'Nihil  infelicius  eat  cui  niliil  unquam  cvenit  advcrsi,  non  licuit  euiin  illi 
seexpcriri.'  Snifni. 

Prosperity  inspires  an  elevation  of  mind  even  in  the  mean-spirited,  so 
that  they  show  a  eettain  degree  of  liigh-niindedness  and  chivalry  in  the  lofty 
position  in  which  fortune  has  placed  tiiem;  hut  tlie  man  who  possesses  real 
lortitude  and  magnanimity  will  siiow  it  hy  tiie  dignity  of  his  behavior  under 
losses,  and  in  the  most  adverse  fortune.  riutarrh. 

As  the  goods  arrived  which  wore  in  transit  at  thi* 
time  of  the  fire,  they  were  put  Into  a  store  in  the 
Gmnd  hotel,  on  Market  street,  of  whicli  we  took  a 
lease  for  a  year.  Orders  came  in  and  customers 
called,  making  their  purchases,  though  hi  a  limited 
way.  Considering  the  crippled  condition  of  the  busi- 
ness and  the  general  prostration  of  its  affairs,  the 
result  was  more  favorable  than  might  have  been 
expected.  In  due  time  after  the  fire  I  was  able  to 
ascertain  that  with  close  collections,  and  making 
the  most  of  everything,  the  business  was  not  only 
solvent,  but  had  a  margin  of  one  hundred  thousand 
dollars  of  resources  above  liabilities.  To  bring  about 
this  happy  state  of  things,  however,  the  utmost  care 
and  watchfulness,  with  the  best  of  management  were 
necessary ;  for  while  returns  from  resources  were  slow 
and  precarious,  the  liabilities  were  certain  and  defined. 

A  number  of  fragmentary  concerns  sprang  up, 
thrown  off  from  the  parent  institution  in  the  whirl  of 
the  great  convulsion.  Our  law  department  was 
united  with  the  business  of  Sumner  Whitney,  and 
a  large  and  successful  law-book  publishing  house  was 
thus  established  under  the  able  management  of  good 
men  from  both  houses,  who  were  less  inclined,  how- 
ever, to  yield  proper  credit  to  those  who  had  laid  the 


THK  HISTORY  IJUILDING. 


789 


foundation  for  them  to  build  ui)(>n,  than  to  vote  them- 
selves large  salaries,  and  derive  all  the  ])ersonal  profit 
therefrom  possible.  The  history  department  was 
sejj^regated  from  the  old  business,  antl  reorganized  and 
incorporated  under  the  name  of  The  History  Com- 
pany. 

The  bare  fact  of  k)ss  of  property, — not  being  able 
to  count  myself  worth  as  nmch  as  formerly  by  so 
many  thousand, — as  I  have  before  intimated,  never 
gave  mo  a  moment's  pang  or  uneasiness.  All  through 
the  whole  of  It  the  main  question,  and  the  only  ques- 
tion, was,  could  the  publishing  business  i)ay  its  debts? 
If  the  Market  street  lot,  the  library,  my  farms,  and 
all  other  property  had  to  be  sacrificed  to  liquidate  the 
indebtedness  of  the  business,  tliereby  arresting  the 
l)ublication  of  the  history,  and  sending  me  forth 
empty-handed  to  earn  my  bread, — I  frankly  admit  that 
I  could  not  face  this  possibility  without  flinclung. 
But  when  it  was  ascertained  that  the  old  business 
was  solvent,  and  would  pay  its  debts  without  the  fur- 
ther sacrifice  of  my  resources,  I  wrote  my  wife,  who 
was  still  in  San  Diego  attending  to  affairs  there,  that 
she  need  have  no  fear  of  the  future,  for  if  I  lived  we 
would  yet  have  enough  and  to  spare,  without  con- 
sidering what  might  happen  in  southern  California. 

Buying  an  additional  lot,  so  as  to  make  a  width  of 
one  hundred  feet  on  Stevenson  street,  having  still 
seventy-five  feet  frontage  on  Market  street,  in  some- 
thing over  a  year  I  had  completed  on  the  old  site  a 
strong  and  beautiful  edifice,  a  feature  of  Market  street, 
and  of  the  city,  which  I  called  The  History  Building. 
Its  architecture  was  oriijjlnal  and  artistic,  the  struc- 
ture  monumental,  and  it  was  s  •  uimed  in  considera- 
tion of  my  historical  efforts. 

I  had  seen  from  the  first  that  it  would  be  necessary 
as  soon  as  possible,  if  I  expected  to  get  another  start  in 
the  world,  to  secure  some  steady  income,  both  at  San 
Diego  and  San  Francisco.  In  the  former  place,  prop- 
erty was  so  rapidly  increasing  in  value,  with  increased 


i 


790    THE  JIIS'IOUY  COMPANY  AND  THE  BANCROFT  CO' 


taxation  and  street  assessments,  that  unless  it  could 
bo  made  productive  a  portion  of  it  would  have  to  be 
sold.  Some  of  it,  tlic  outside  lands,  were  sold,  and 
with  the  proceeds,  and  what  I  could  scrape  together 
in  San  Jf  rancisco,  we  managed  to  erect  a  business 
building  there,  which  brought  in  good  returns.  Then 
there  was  the  ground-rent  from  a  hundred  lots  or  so, 
which  helped  materially.  No  money  which  I  had 
ever  handled  gave  me  half  the  pleasure  as  that  which 
I  was  able  to  send  to  my  wife  at  this  time;  for 
although  it  lessened  and  made  more  difficult  my 
chances  of  success  in  San  Francisco,  it  removed  my 
family  further  every  day  from  possible  want,  and  thus 
gave  me  renewed  strength  for  the  battle. 

Up  to  this  time  the  publication  and  sale  of  my 
historical  series  had  been  conducted  as  one  of  the 
departments  of  the  general  business,  under  the  man- 
agement of  Nathan  J.  Stone.  As  this  business  had 
assumed  large  proportions,  somet'^iaes  interfering 
with  the  other  departments,  not  ah  >  being  in  har- 
mony with  them  or  with  the  gene:  .management,  it 
was  finally  thought  best  to  organize  an  independent 
company,  having  for  its  object  prunarily  the  publica- 
tions of  my  books,  together  with  general  book-pub- 
lishing, and  acting  at  the  same  time  as  an  agency  for 
strictly  first-class  eastern  subscription  publications. 

It  may  be  not  out  of  place  to  give  here  some 
account  of  the  manner  in  which  the  publication  and 
sale  of  this  historical  scries  was  conducted,  with  a 
brief  biography  of  the  man  who  managed  it;  for  if 
there  had  been  anything  unusual  in  gathering  the 
material  and  writing  these  histories,  the  method  by 
which  they  were  published  and  placed  in  the  hands 
of  readers  was  no  less  remarkable. 

Ordinarily,  for  a  commercial  man  formally  to  an- 
nounce to  the  world  that  he  was  about  to  write  and 
publish  a  series  of  several  histories,  which  with  pre- 
liminary and  supplemental  works  would  number  in 
all  thirty-nine  volumes,  would  be  regarded,  to  say  the 


METHOD  OF  I'UIILU'ATIOX. 


7!)  I 


least,  as  a  somcwliat  visioiuiry  proposition.  Tliose 
best  capaljlo  of  apprcciatinj^  tlio  amount  of  time, 
money,  labor,  and  steadfastness  of  purpose  involved, 
would  say  that  such  an  one  had  no  conception  of  what 
he  was  undertaking,  did  not  know  in  fact  what  he 
was  talking  about,  and  the  chances  were  a  hundred 
to  one  he  would  never  complete  the  work. 

Still  further  out  of  the  way  would  it  seem  for  the 
publishers  of  the  series  to  bring  forward  a  pros- 
pectus and  invite  subscriptions  beforehand  for  the 
whole  thirty-nine  volumes  at  once.  Such  a  proceed- 
ing had  never  been  heard  of  since  publishing  began. 
It  could  not  bo  done.  Why  not  adopt  the  usual 
course,  announce  the  first  work  of  the  series  and  take 
subscriptions  therefor  ?  Tliis  done,  publish  the  second; 
and  so  on.  People  will  not  subscribe  for  so  large  a 
work  so  far  in  advance  of  its  completion,  with  all  the 
attendant  uncertainties.  So  said  those  of  widest  ex- 
perience, and  who  were  supposed  to  be  the  best  ca])a- 
ble  of  judging. 

We  well  knew  that  no  New  York  or  London  pub- 
lisher would  undertake  the  enterprise  on  such  terms. 
We  also  knew  that  no  book,  or  series  of  books,  ha<l 
ever  been  written  as  these  had  been.  We  did  not 
know  that  the  publication  and  sale  could  be  success- 
fully effected  on  this  basis,  but  we  determined  to  try, 
and  for  the  following  reasons  : 

First,  properly  to  place  this  work  before  men  of 
discrimination  and  taste  in  such  a  way  as  to  make 
them  fully  understand  it,  its  inception  and  execution, 
the  ground  it  covers  with  every  how  and  wliy,  re- 
quired strong  men  of  no  common  ability,  and  sucli 
men  must  receive  adequate  compensation  for  superior 
intelliiience  and  eneri^v.  To  sell  a  section  of  tlie  work 
would  by  no  means  pay  them  for  their  time  and 
labor. 

Secondly,  when  once  the  patron  should  understand 
the  nature  and  scope  of  the  woik,  how  it  was  origi- 
nated and  how  executed,  as  a  rule,  if  he  desired  anv  of 


792   THE  HISTORY  COMPANY  AND  THE  BANCROFT  COMPANY. 


it,  ho  would  want  it  all.  As  is  now  well  known,  any 
one  section  of  the  series,  though  complete  in  itself,  is 
but  one  of  a  number,  all  of  which  are  requisite  to  the 
completion  of  the  plan. 

Thirdly,  considering  the  outlay  of  time  and  money 
on  each  section,  a  subscription  to  only  one  volume,  or 
one  set  of  volumes,  would  in  no  way  compensate  or 
1  »ring  a  fair  return  to  the  publisher.  Throughout  the 
scries  are  constant  references  and  cross-references,  by 
means  of  which  repetitions,  otherwise  necessary  for 
the  proper  understanding  of  each  several  part,  are 
saved,  thus  makhig  the  history  of  Mexico  of  value  to 
California,  and  vice  versa,  so  that  if  the  citizen  of 
Oregon  places  upon  his  shelves  the  history  of 
Colorado,  the  Coloradan  should  reciprocate. 

When  a  book  is  published,  clearly  the  purpose  is 
that  it  should  be  circulated.  Publishing  signifies 
sending  forth.  Print  and  stack  up  in  your  basement 
a  steamboat  load  of  books,  and  until  they  are  sent  out 
they  are  not  published.  And  they  must  be  sent  out 
to  bona  fide  subscribers,  and  placed  in  the  hands  of 
those  who  value  them  sufficiently  to  invest  money  in 
them.  To  print  and  present  does  not  answer  the  pur- 
pose ;  neither  individual  wealth  nor  tlie  authority  of 
government  can  give  a  book  influence,  or  cause  it  to 
be  regarded  as  of  intrinsic  value.  It  nmst  be  worth 
buying  in  the  first  place,  and  must  then  be  bought, 
to  make  it  valued. 

In  the  matter  of  patronage,  I  would  never  allow 
myself  to  be  placed  in  the  attitude  of  a  mendicant.  I 
had  devoted  myself  to  this  work  voluntarily,  not 
through  hope  of  gain,  or  from  any  n»otive  of  patri- 
otism or  philanthropy,  or  because  of  any  idea  of 
superior  ability,  or  a  desire  for  fame,  but  simply 
because  it  gave  me  j)leasure  to  do  a  good  work  well. 
Naturally,  and  very  properly,  if  I  migJit  be  permitted 
to  accomplish  a  meritorious  work,  I  would  like  the 
approbation  of  my  fellow-men ;  if  I  should  be  able  to 
confer  a  benefit  on  the  country,  it  would  be  pleasant 


NATHAN  J.  STONE. 


79» 


to  sec  it  recognized ;  but  to  trade  upon  this  sentiment, 
or  allow  others  to  do  so,  .vould  be  most  repugnant  to 
me 

Therefore,  it  was  my  great  desire  that  if  ever  the 
work  should  be  placed  before  tlie  public  for  sale,  it 
should  be  done  in  sucli  a  manner  as  to  conunand  and 
retain  for  it  the  respect  and  approbation  of  tlie  best 
men.  It  would  be  so  easy  for  an  incompetent  or  in- 
judicious person  to  bring  the  work  into  disfavor,  in 
failing  to  make  its  origin,  its  plan,  and  ])urp()se,  prop- 
erly understood.  In  due  time  fortune  directed  to  the 
publishers  the  man  of  all  others  best  fitted  to  tlie 
task. 

Nathan  Jonas  Stone  was  born  in  Webster,  Mer- 
rimac  county,  New  Hampshire,  June  11,  1843,  which 
spot  was  likewise  the  birtli -place  of  his  fatlier,  Peter 
Stone.  Both  of  his  grandfathers  were  captains  in  the 
army,  one  servhig  in  the  revolutionary  war,  and  the 
other  in  the  war  of  1 8 1 2. 

Mr.  Stone's  early  life  was  spent  on  a  farm,  working 
during  summer,  and  attending  school  or  teaching  in 
winter.  No  better  training  can  be  devised  for  making 
strong  and  self-reliant  men ;  no  better  place  was  ever 
seen  for  laying  the  foundations  of  firm  principles,  and 
knitting  tlie  finer  webs  of  character,  than  a  New 
England  country  home. 

In  1803,  being  then  twenty  years  of  age,  Mr. 
Stone  came  to  California  by  the  way  of  Panamd,,  ar- 
riving in  San  Francisco  on  the  18th  of  August,  with 
just  ten  cents  in  his  pocket.  Investing  liis  capital  in 
Bartlett  pears,  he  seated  himself  on  tlie  end  of  a  log, 
near  the  wliarf  where  he  had  landed,  and  ate  tlnin. 
Thus  fortified  for  wliatever  fate  miglit  ]jave  in  store, 
he  set  out  to  find  work.  He  knew  not  a  soul 
in  the  city,  having  thus  cast  himself  adrift  upon  the 
tide  of  liis  own  native  resources,  in  a  stranije  countrv. 
at  this  early  age,  with  cool  indifi'erence  parting  from 
his  last  penny,  well  knowing  tliat  tliere  was  no  such 
thing  as  starvation  in  store  for  a  boy  of  Jiis  metal. 


794    THE  HISTORY  COMPANY  AND  THE  BANCROFT  COMPANY. 

Times  were  very  dull,  and  easy  places  with  good 
pay  were  not  abundant.  Nor  did  he  even  search  for 
one ;  but  after  walking  about  for  the  greater  part  of 
the  day,  making  his  first  tour  of  observation  in  the 
country,  about  five  o'clock  he  saw  posted  on  Kearny 
street  a  notice  of  workmen  wanted,  and  was  about 
making  inquiries  concerning  the  same,  when  he  was 
accosted  by  a  man  driving  a  milk-wagon,  who  asked 
him  if  he  was  looking  for  employment.  Stone  replied 
that  he  was ;  whereupon  the  man  engaged  him  on  the 
spot,  at  forty  dollars  a  month  and  board.  Three 
months  afterward  he  was  oftered  and  accepted  the 
superintendence  of  the  industrial  school  farm,  acting 
later  as  teacher  and  deputy  superintendent. 

In  1867,  he  entered  the  house  of  H.  H.  Bancroft 
and  company,  acting  as  manager  first  of  the  subscrip- 
tion department,  and  then  of  the  wholesale  department. 
In  1872,  he  became  interested  in  the  awakening  of 
civilization  in  Japan,  and  opened  business  on  his  own 
account  in  Yokohama,  where  his  transactions  soon 
reached  a  million  of  dollars  a  year,  importing  general 
merchandise  and  exporting  the  products  of  the  coun- 
try. He  placed  a  printing-press  in  the  mikado's 
palace,  which  led  to  the  establishment  of  a  printing- 
bureau,  and  the  cutting  outa'^id  casting  into  type  of  the 
Japanese  characters. 

Obliged  by  ill-health  to  abandon  business,  he  re- 
turned to  San  Francisco  in  1878  completely  prostrated ; 
but  after  a  summer  at  his  old  home,  he  recuperated, 
his  health  still  further  improving  during  a  four  years' 
residence  at  Santa  liosa,  California. 

Mr  Stone  had  followed  me  in  my  historical  efforts 
with  great  interest  from  the  first.  He  had  watched 
the  gradual  accunmlation  of  material,  and  the  long 
labor  of  its  utilization.  He  believed  thoroughly  in 
the  work,  its  plan,  the  methods  by  which  it  was 
wrought  out,  and  the  great  and  lasting  good  which 
would  accrue  to  the  country  from  its  publication.  He 
was  finally  induced  to  accept  the  important  responsi- 


GEORGE  H.  MORRISON. 


7f» 


bility  of  placing  the  work  before  the  world,  of  assum- 
ing the  general  management  of  its  publication  and 
sale,  and  devoting  his  life  thereto.  No  one  could 
have  been  better  fitted  for  this  arduous  task  than  he. 
With  native  ability  were  united  broad  experience  and 
a  keen  insight  into  men  and  things.  Self-reliant,  yet 
laborious  in  his  efforts,  bold,  yet  cautious,  careful  in 
speech,  of  tireless  energy,  and  ever  jealous  for  the 
reputation  of  the  work,  he  entered  the  field  determined 
upon  success.  A  plan  was  devised  wholly  unique  in 
the  annals  of  book-publishing,  no  less  original,  no  less 
difficult  of  execution  than  were  the  methods  by  which 
alone  it  was  made  possible  for  the  author  to  write  the 
work  in  the  first  place.  And  with  unflinching  faith 
and  loyalty,  Mr  Stone  stood  by  the  proposition  until 
was  wrought  out  of  it  the  most  complete  success. 

Among  the  most  active  and  efficient  members  of 
The  History  Company  is  George  Howard  Morrison, 
a  native  of  Maine,  having  been  born  at  Calais  No- 
vember 8,  1845.  His  ancestors  were  of  that  Scotch- 
Irish  mixture,  with  a  tincture  of  English,  which 
produces  strong  men,  mentally  and  physically.  On 
the  father's  side  the  line  of  sturdy  Scotch  farmers  and 
manufacturers,  with  a  plentiful  intermixture  of  law- 
yers and  doctors,  may  be  traced  back  for  generations; 
the  mother  brought  to  the  alliance  the  Irish  name 
of  McCuddinjj  and  the  English  Sinclair.  Georcje  w  as 
one  of  nine  children.  Owing  to  failures  in  business 
their  father  was  unable  to  carry  out  his  desi-^ni  of 
giving  them  a  liberal  education,  but  in  New  England 
there  is  always  open  the  village  school,  which  nuiny 
a  prominent  American  has  made  suffice.  It  certainly 
speaks  volumes  for  tlie  self-reliance  and  enterpris(^  of 
the  boy  George,  when  we  find  him  in  1851),  at  the 
age  of  fourteen,  alone,  without  a  friend  or  an  ac- 
quaintance in  the  country,  applying  for  a  situation 
at  the  office  of  a  prominent  lawyer  in  Sacramento. 

"What  can  you  do?"  asked  the  lawyer. 


796  THE  HISTORY  COMPANY  AND  THE  BANCROFT  COMPANY. 


"Anything  that  any  boy  can  do  who  is  no  bigger 
or  abler    than  I  am,"  was  the  reply. 

The  lawyer  was  pleased,  took  the  lad  to  his  home, 
gave  him  a  place  in  his  office,  and  initiated  him  in  the 
mysteries  of"  the  law.  There  he  remained,  until  the 
growing  importance  of  the  silver  development  drew  him 
to  Nevada,  where  he  made  and  lost  several  fortunes. 
Entering  politics,  he  was  made  assessor  of  Virginia 
City  in  18G6,  represented  Storey  county  in  the  legis- 
loture  in  1873,  and  was  chief  clerk  of  the  assembly, 
introducing  a  bill  which  greatly  enlarged  the  useful- 
ness of  the  state  orphan  asylum,  in  1870  Mr  Mor- 
rison married  Mary  E.  Howard,  the  most  estimable 
and  accomplished  daughter  of  John  S.  Howard,  type- 
founder of  Boston,  four  children,  Mildred,  Lillie, 
George,  and  Helen,  being  the  fruits  of  this  union. 

Mr  Morrison  was  one  of  the  first  subscribers  to  the 
history,  in  which  he  became  deeply  interested,  finally 
joining  his  fate  with  that  of  The  History  Company, 
of  which  he  is  secretary,  and  of  The  Bancroft  Com- 
pany, in  both  of  which  com})anies  he  is  a  director. 

As  The  History  Building  drew  near  completion, 
the  proposition  arose  to  move  the  business  back  into 
its  old  quarters ;  but  it  had  become  so  crippled  in  its 
resources  and  reduced  in  its  condition,  that  I  did  not 
feel  like  assuming  the  labor,  risk,  and  responsibility 
of  the  nocessar}'^  increased  expenses. 

I  had  long  been  anxious  to  get  out  of  business 
rather  than  go  deeper  into  it.  The  thought  lay 
heavy  upon  me  of  taking  again  upon  my  already 
well-burdened  shoulders  the  care  and  responsibility 
of  a  wide-spread  business,  with  endless  detail  and 
scant  capital;  I  did  not  care  for  the  money  should 
it  succeed;  I  wanted  nothing  further  now  than  to 
get  myself  away  from  everything  of  the  kind. 

Yet  there  was  my  old  business  which  I  had  estab- 
lished in  my  boyhood,  and  worked  out  day  by  day  and 
year  by  year  into  magnificent  and  successful  propor- 
tions; for  there  had  never  been  a  year  since  its  foun- 


IN  NEW  AND  ELECUNT  QUARTERS. 


797 


dation  that  it  had  not  grown  and  Houriahed,  and  that 
as  a  rule  in  ever-increasing  proportions.  I  had  for 
it  an  affection  outside  of  any  mercenary  interest. 
Through  good  and  evil  times  it  had  stood  bravely  by 
me,  by  my  family,  my  history,  my  associates,  and 
employes,  and  I  could  not  desert  it  now.  I  could 
not  see  it  die  or  go  to  the  dogs  without  an  effort  to 
save  it;  for  I  felt  that  such  would  be  its  fate  if  it 
neglected  the  opportunity  to  go  back  to  its  old  l(Kal- 
ity,  and  regain  somewhat  of  its  old  power  and  pres- 
tige. The  country  was  rapidly  going  forward.  There 
must  soon  be  a  first-class  bookstore  in  San  Francisco. 
There  was  none  such  now,  and  if  ours  did  not  step  to 
the  front  and  assume  that  position,  some  other  one 
would.  Immediately  after  the  fire  the  remarks  were 
common,  "It  is  a  public  loss";  "We  have  nowhere, 
now,  to  go  for  our  books";  "Your  store  was  not 
appreciated  until  it  was  gone." 

My  family  were  now  all  well  provided  for,  through 
the  rise  of  real  estate  in  San  Diego.  What  I  had  be- 
sides need  not  affect  them  one  way  or  the  other.  I 
felt  that  I  had  the  right  to  risk  it  in  a  good  cause — 
every  dollar  of  it,  and  my  life  in  addition,  if  I  so 
chose.  After  all,  it  was  chiefly  a  question  of  health 
and  endurance.  I  determined  to  try  it;  once  more  I 
would  adventure,  and  succeed  or  sink  all. 

So  I  laid  my  plans  accordingly,  and  in  company 
with  W.  B.  Bancroft,  Mr  Colley,  and  Mr  Dorland,  all 
formerly  connected  with  the  original  house  of  II,  H. 
Bancroft  and  Company,  I  organized  and  incorporated 
The  Bancroft  Company,  and  moved  the  old  business 
back  upon  the  old  site,  but  into  new  and  elegant 
quarters.  Behold  the  new  creation  I  Once  more 
we  had  a  bookstore,  one  second  to  none  in  all  this 
western  world — an  establishment  which  was  a  daily 
pride  and  pleasure,  not  so  widely  spread  as  the  old 
one,  but  in  many  respects  better  conditioned.  Above 
all,  we  were  determined  to  popularize  it,  and  place  it 
in  many  respects  upon  a  higher  plane  than  ever  it 
had  before  enjoyed.     And  we  succeeded. 


798    THE  HISTORY  COMPANY  AND  THE  BANC£lOFT  COMPANY. 


The  management  of  The  Bancroft  Company  was 
placed  in  the  hands  of  my  nephew,  W.  B.  Bancroft, 
who  had  been  well  instructed  in  the  business,  and  had 
ever  been  loyal  to  it.  At  the  time  of  the  fire  he  was 
at  the  head  of  the  manufactory,  having  under  him 
two  or  three  hundred  men.  Husbanding  his  influence 
and  resources,  he  started  a  printing-office  on  his  own 
account,  and  was  on  the  broad  road  to  success  when 
he  was  invited  to  unite  his  manufactory  with  the  old 
business  under  the  new  name,  and  assume  the  man- 
agement, which  he  finally  consented  to  do.  Thus 
he,  with  the  others,  passed  through  the  fiery  furnace 
unscathed,  and  with  them  deserved  the  success  which 
he  achieved.  No  small  portion  of  his  success  as  a 
manufacturer  has  been  due  to  the  devoted  efforts  of 
James  A.  Pariser,  the  able  and  efficient  superin- 
tendent of  the  printing  department.  Thus,  with 
fresh  blood,  good  brains,  and  ample  capital,  there  was 
no  reason  apparent  why  the  new  business  should  not 
in  time  far  outstrip  the  old,  and  on  its  centennial  in 
1956  stand  unapproached  by  any  similar  institution 
in  the  new  and  grandest  of  empires  on  the  shores  of 
the  Pacific. 


INDEX. 


Abernethy,  Mrs,  mention  of,  542; 
material  furnished  by,  550. 

Adam,  L.,  reviews  'Native  Races,' 
300. 

Adams,  C.  F.,  meeting  with  Ban- 
croft, etc.,  338. 

Alaska,  material  for  Hist,  of,  551-61, 
G21-3. 

Alcantara,  Emperor  Dom.  P.  de,  vis- 
its to  Bancroft's  library,  etc.,  187G, 
628-9. 

Alemauy,  Archbishop  J.  S.,  archives 
furnished  by,  472-4. 

Allen,  A.,  dictation  of,  534. 

Altamirano,  Y.  M.,  appearance,  etc., 
of,  7:m. 

Alvarado,  J.  B.,  biog.,  etc.,  of,  407-8; 
Vallcjo's  negotiations  with,  408-J2; 
material  furnished  by,  etc.,  408-27. 

Amador  County,  Cal.,  name,  524. 

Amador,  J.,  dictation,  etc.,  of,  524. 

Amat,  Bishop,  meeting  with  Ban- 
croft, etc. ,  496-7. 

American  Antiquarian  Society,  Ban- 
croft hon.  member  of,  361. 

American  Etlinological  Society,  Ban- 
croft hon.  member  of,  362. 

Ames,  J.  G.,  meeting  with  Bancroft, 
etc.,  351-2. 

Anderson,  A.  C,  manuscript,  etc., 
of,  5.14-8. 

Anderson,  J.,  reviews  'Native  Races,' 
351. 

Andrade,  D.  J.  M.,  library  of,  185-91. 

Andree,  Dr.  K.,  reviews  'Natirc 
Races,' 358. 

Applegatc,  J.,  character,  etc.,  of, 
546-7. 

Aiipleton,  D.  &  Co.,  contract  with 
ftincroft,  .^6. 

Arce,  F.,  mention  of,  523, 

Argiielln  meets  Cerruti,  etc.,  404. 

ArgUello,  Seflora,  mention  of,  405-6. 

Amaz,  J.  de,  dictation  of,  496-7,  528. 


Ash,  Dr.  J.,  mention  of,  S."}©;  Manu- 

script,  etc.,  of,  533. 
'Atlantic  Monthly,'  reviews  'Native 

Races,' 350. 
Authors,  mention  of  various,  308-10; 

characteristics,  etc.,  of,  664-82. 
Authorship,  miseries  of,  .346-7. 
.\very,  B.  P.,  mention  of,  313. 
A  Vila,  J.,  dictation  of,  526:  courtesy 

of,  527. 
Xvila,  Senora,  528-9. 


B 


Bacon,  J.  M.,  dictation  of,  546. 

Ballon,  J.,  mention  of,  541. 

Bancroft,  A.,  mcnti(m  of,  48,  50; 
character,  49;  death  of,  55. 

Bancroft,  A.  A.,  ancestry  of,  47-8; 
extract  from  '(.ioldon  Wedding,' 
48;  life  in  old  and  new  Granville, 
49-50;  boys'  work  in  the  oldin 
time,  50;  courtship  and  marriage, 
5'J;  his  own  account  of  his  wooing, 
(iO;  removal  to  Missouri,  62-77;  in 
California,  125. 

Bancroft,  C,  business  ventures  of, 
126. 

Bancroft,  G.,  meeting  with  H.  H. 
Bancroft,  M5. 

Bancroft,  II.  H.,  works  of,  appro, 
ciated,  12-15;  ancestry  and  rcla 
tives,  47-.'>r>;  boyhood,  G.'$-104, 
character,  73-7;  education,  90- 104; 
early  career,  109-37;  voyage  to 
Cal.,  1852,  121;  at  Crescent  City, 
18.").'}-5,  l.'$7-40;  homeward  trip, 
1855,  142-7;  return  to  Cal.,  1856, 
147;  firm  cstabld  by,  147-8;  first 
marriage,  1.j1-4;  business  affairs, 
155-05,  2.10-1;  death  of  wife,  158- 
61;  inception  of  liter,  work,  166- 
74;  books  collected  by,  173-97, 
347,  .351-.1,  478-.'J0l,  618-40,  70*2- 
63;  library,  198-276,  562-91;  liter, 
projects,  1222-9;    ill-health,   226-8; 

(7991 


800 


INDEX. 


preparation    of   material,    231-43, 
51^^14;  assistants,  245-77,  3()o-7«, 
513;  scope  of  work,  278-9,  286-8; 
despondency,    280-3;  liter,   efforts, 
287-05;     'History    of    the    Pacific 
.States,' 295,  581-91,  790-5;  'Native 
Races,'  295-325,    509-70,    575;  re- 
views, etc.,  of  M'orks,  3 1 6- '25,  338, 
341-'2,  350-1,  357-04;  eastern  tour, 
1874,  3'JO-W,  1870,400-5;  meeting, 
etc.,  with  IJliss,  329-31;  with  Pal- 
frey,   33'2-3;    with    Gray,    3IM  5; 
■with   Lowell,    335;    with   Phillips, 
.130-7;  with  Whittier,  337-8;  with 
Adams,    338;   with  Parkman,   .338; 
witli  Emerson,  339;  with  liowells, 
339;    with   Holmes,    339-40;    with 
Iliggiuson,  341;  with  fr.  Bancroft, 
345,    401;    with     Draper,     .345-(J; 
with   Nordhoff,    340;  with   Porter, 
.348;  with  King,  .348-9;  with  Spof- 
ford,  351-2,  401;  with  Ames,  351- 
2;  with  Sargent,  35'2-3;  agreement 
with  Longmans  &  Co.,  354;  corres- 
pondence with  Lubbock,  355;  with 
Spencer,    .350,    302;    with  (iilman, 
350;  with  Latlaam,  350;  with  Lucky, 
350-7;  with  Helps,  357;  with  Daw- 
kins,    359;    with    Tylor,     .359-00; 
manuscripts     procured    by,     etc., 
.38:1-443,   401-5,    487-501,    0'28^-49, 
739,  701-2;  negotiations,  etc.,  with 
Vallcjo,  383-443;  with  Castro,  415- 
20;  second  marriage,  450-00;  visit 
to  l'"remont,  etc.,  40O-1;  to  Sutter, 
401-5;  trip  to  Southern  Cal.,  1874, 
478-508;     archives     collected     by, 
468-83,    493-529,    543-4,  538,   0'28, 
701-2,   730,   740-7,   703,    meeting, 
etc.,  with  Hayes,  478-84,   509-13; 
with  Ubach,  485:  with  Pico,  490-2; 
with   Amat,    490-7;    with   Taylor, 
497-503;    with   Vila,    .503-4;    with 
Oonzalez,   .505;  M'ith  Romo,  505-8; 
northern  trip,    1878,  530-49;  meet- 
ing with  Elliott,  532-3;  with  Rich- 
ards,   5.32;    with    Tod,    5.36;    with 
McKinlay,     530-7;    with    'Tolmie, 
537;  with   Finlayson,   537-8;   with 
Anderson,    538;    with    llelmcken, 
5.38-9;      with     Evans,    542;     with 
Brown,   .544;    fire  in  1873,    572-3; 
newspaper    collection    of,     574-.'5; 
Drapers  letter  to,   579;    Holmes', 
579-80;  literary   method,  592-617, 
C8'2-9;    retires  from  business,  608- 
10;     correspondence    with    Swan, 
620-1;  with  Gonzalez,  624-5;  with 
Brioso,    625;    with    Cuadra,    626; 
•with    Barrios,   626;    with    Dwver, 


632-7;  with  Taylor,  637-9;  with 
Pratt,  6.37-8;  Richards'  visit  to, 
639-40;  correspondence  with  Sand- 
ers, 641-2;  trip  to  Mex.,  1883-4, 
700-51;  1887,  751;  meeting  with 
Diaz,  73'2,  739;  with  Morgan,  734; 
with  Altamirano,  734;  with  Paz, 
7.34-5;  with  Torres,  735;  with  Sosa, 
735;  with  Palacio,  735;  with  Her- 
nandez y  Diivalos,  730;  with  Garay, 
738;  with  Iglesias,  738;  with  leaz- 
balceta,  738-9;  'Chronicles  of  the 
Kings,'  753;  trip  to  Utah,  Col.  and 
New  Mex.,  1884-5,  759-03:  invest- 
ments ill  San  Diego,  709-71,  789- 
90;  farm  at  Wahuit  Creek,  770; 
fire  in  1880,  77'2-t;  effect  of  fire, 
etc.,  775-87;  business  re-organi- 
zation, 788-97. 

Bancroft,  K.,  education,  .320,  458; 
liter,  labors  of,  •t.")8-9;  trip  to 
Southern  Cal.,  478,  484;  to  Mex., 
700. 

Bancroft,  Mrs.,  nee  Howe,  see  Howe, 
L.  D. 

Bancroft,  Mrs.,  nee  Ketchum,  see 
Ketchum,  E. 

Bancroft,  'Mrs.,  nee  Grilling,  see 
Griffing,  M. 

Bancroft,  .T.,  mention  of,  47. 

Bancroft,  M.,  mention  of,  112. 

Bancroft,  N.,  mention  of,  47. 

Bancroft,  R.,  mention  of,  47. 

Bancroft,  S.,  mention  of,  47;  char- 
acter, 48. 

Bancroft,  S.  W.,  mention  of,  47. 

Bancroft,  W.  B.,  mention  of,  202; 
manager  of  The  Bancroft  Co.,  790- 
7. 

Bancroft  Company,  organization  of 
The,  790. 

Bandini,  Gen.,  material  furnished  by, 
488-90. 

Bandini,  Sefiora,  mention  of,  488. 

B;vrientos,  M.,  biog.,  '270. 

Barnes,  J.  C,  relations  with  Ban- 
croft, 140-7. 

Barrios,  J.  R.,  correspondence  with 
Bancroft,  C'20. 

Barroeta,  Dr,  mention  of,  702. 

Biites,  A.,  biog.,  207. 

Begbie,  Sir  M.  B.,  courtesy,  etc.,  of, 
530-1. 

Benson,  W.  H.,  at  Bancroft's  Library, 
272,  688. 

Biblioteca  Nacional,  Mexico,  descript. 
of,  740-0. 

71anchet,  Father,  mention  of,  54.3. 

Blerzy,  H.,  reviews  'Native  Races,' 
360. 


INDEX 


801 


Bliss,  P.  C,  character,  etc.,  of,  .128- 
.'{0;  rt'latidiis  witli  Bancroft,  etc., 
'SM  '.i,  ;{3'J,  ;{4'J  50;  book-collection 
of,  -Ml. 

Bhixonic,   I.,   material  furniaheil  l)y, 

cti.\,  ()5S-(;(>. 

B()kk('l(3ii,   Major,  material  furnished 

by.  040. 
Bnnilla,  Sofiora,  courtesy  f)f,  5'_'8. 
Hootli,  information  furnished  by,  541. 
Bo.s(|nctti,  career  of,  'J"JO-l. 
Bot,  Fatlier,  courtesy  of,  .VJO. 
Bott'Uo,  N.,  dictation  of,  .')"_'7. 
Bowman,    A.,    mention    of,   273;    in 

Bancroft's  employ,  540  1. 
Brady,  information  furnished  by,  554. 
Brewer,  I'rofes.sor,  mention  of,  .S28. 
Brigi^s,  L.  H.,  material  furnished  by, 

540. 
Brioso,  Minister,  correspondence  with 

Bancroft,  C25. 
British   Columbia,  material  for  hist. 

of,  530-40,  .540. 
Brockhaus,  F.  A.,  publishei's  'Native 

Races, '  3G0. 
Brown,  J.,  agent  for  'Native  Races,' 

3.54  5. 
Brown,  .J.  H.,  material  furnished  by, 

544,  SiiO. 
Brown  Valley,   mining  in,   1852,  126. 
Browne,  .T.  R.,  mention  of,  313. 
Browne,  R.,  reviews    '  Native  Racc>hi', 

323-4. 
Bryant,    W.    C,  letter  to  Banoioft, 

351. 
Buckingham,   ^V.,  material  furnished 

by,  5."t5. 
Buffalo   Historical  Society,    Bancroft 

hon.  member  of,  'Ml. 
Burgos,  bookstores  of,  184. 
Butler,  J.  L.,  materi   .  furnished  by, 

540. 


California,  condition  of,  1856,  S-il; 
develiipmeut,  etc.,  of,  0-11;  litera- 
ture in,  1'2-41,  173-4;  effect  of  cli- 
mate, 24-7;  migration  to,  57  8; 
overtrading  in.  124;  niining  in,  124- 
7;  credit  of,  146-7;  effect  of  civil 
war  on,  154-5;  material  for  hist, 
of,  38.3-443,  468  520,  618-20,  631, 
647-0,  744-6;   archives  of,   4(;8-S3. 

'California  Inter  Pocula,'  mention  of, 
6,50  2. 

'California  Pastoral',  mention  of, 
650. 

Camping,  do.script.  of,  69.3-5. 

C'arlrle,  Thomas,  quotation  from,  36. 

Lit.  Ind.    51 


Carr,  W.  .T.,  mention  of,  272. 

Carrillo,  P.,  paper.s,  etc.,  of,  .525. 

Cassidy,  Father,  material  furnished 
by,  4-M. 

Castro,  M.,  material  obtained  from, 
etc.,  415  26,  430. 

Ca/uiu^uve,  F.  (!.,  mention  of,  738. 

(.'el)allos,  J.,  mention  of,  7.'i8. 

Central  America,  material  for  hist, 
of,  62.3-31. 

Cerruti,  E.,  biog.,  etc.,  of,  3(i5-76;  in 
Bancroft's  employ,  365  76,  31s;{-444; 
negotiations,  etc.,  with  (Jen.  Val- 
lejo,  .383-05;  'Kamblings'  MS., 
400  5;  intercourse  with  ( iov.  Alva- 
rado,  410-1.3,  417  27;  with  Castro, 
416  24;  with  Vallejo,  428-30;  death 
of,  444  5. 

Chadwick,  Gov.  S.  F.,  mention  of, 
542. 

Charles,  W.,  material  furni.shud  by, 
535. 

Chimalpopoca,  A.,  meeting  with 
Bancroft,  etc.,  7.35-6. 

Cholula,  deseript.  of,  748-50. 

'  Chronicles  of  the  Builders, '  plan  pre- 
sented, 751^9. 

Church,  .1.  A.,  reviews,  'Native 
Races',  .351. 

Clarke,   Airs.   S.    A.,  mention  of,  .545. 

Clarke,  Kev.  .1.  F.,   mention  of,   33(S. 

Climate,  effect  of  on  liter,  work,  24-7. 

Cohen,  Miss,  information  furnislied 
by,  554. 

Coleman,    H. 
by,  353. 

Colemai;,  W. 
by,  ittiO. 

CoUey,  ci  nuection  with  The  Bancroft 
Co.,  706. 

Colorado,  material  for  hist,  of,  761-2. 

Comapa'.a,  F.'uiier,  meeting  witii  Ban- 
croft, ttc  ,  406. 

Cnmpton,  P.  N.,  dictatiim  of,  53.3-4. 

Cook,  Ca})t.,  in  Alaska,  1758,  5.57. 

Co  )k(!,  W.  B.,  i)artncrship  witli 
Kci.:.y,  18.52,  1.34  .5,  141. 

Copperthwaite,  T.  M.,  biog.,   269-70. 

(,'orl)aley,  K.  C,  mention  of,  628. 

Corona,  It.  V.,  mention  of,  275. 

Coronel,  I.,  papers  of,  510,  525. 

(.'osmos,  A.  (Ic,  men  Jon  of,  535. 

Coutts,  C.  .1.,  iufoi'mation  furnished 
by,  485,  400. 

('rane,  Dr,  kiinluess  of,  527. 

Crease,  .lustice,  mention  of,  548. 

Crescent  City,  deseript.  of,  1853,  136- 
40. 

Crowell  &  Fairficdd,  Bancroft's  con- 
nection with,  1853-4,  137-8,  140. 


R.,  material   coUcctcil 
T.,  material  furnished 


INDEX. 


Ciiadra,     ProHident,    corrcapomlcnce 

of.  Ci.'5-6. 
C'lishing,  C,  sale  of  library,  194. 


Damon,    S.    E.,    material    furnished 

by,  m. 
Daiiii  C,  courtesy  of,  r>28. 
Davidson,  G.,  anecdote  of,  .114. 
Dawkina,  W.  B.,  eorrespoiidence  with 

Bancroft,  .S,50. 
Deady,  M.  P.,  ilietation  of,  546. 
Deans,  J.,  dictation  of,  5'M. 
Dempster,     material    furnished    by, 

etc.,  Cjy-ei. 

Denny,  A.,  information  furnished  by, 
541. 

Derby,  G.  H.,  mention  of,  80,  90, 
111;  character,  etc.,  11  :<  H,  117-lS; 
business  ventures,  117  10;  death 
of,  l',i'2;  estiite,  13;i-5. 

Derby,  J.  C,  mention  of,  347. 

Derby,  Mrs.,  marriage  of,  SS;  decease 
of  husband,  1852,  MVJ-H;  relations 
with  Bancroft,  14H  (5. 

Deschamps,  remarks  on  the  Andra- 
do  collection,  189-90. 

Diaz,  President  P.,  Bancroft's  meet- 
ing with,  732,  730;  manuscript  of, 
739;  career,  etc.,  of,  730  40. 

Dil)blee,   nuiterial  furnished  by,  528. 

Dominguez,  D.,  material  furnished 
by,  528. 

Dorland.T.  A.  C,  connection  with  The 
Bancroft  Co.,  79(5. 

Douglas,  J.  D.,  material  furnished 
by,  534. 

Douglas,  Lady,  mention  of,  5.S0,  534. 

Dowell,  B.  F..  mention  of,  548. 

Downey,  Oov.,  mention  of,  480. 

Draper,  Dr,  meeting  witli  Bancroft, 
etc.,  345-(),  570. 

Dr/l'reek,  mining  on,  1852,  126-7. 

Dwyer,  J.,  correspondence  with  Ban- 
croft, 632-7. 


Earhart,  R.  P.,  material  furnished 
by,  .543. 

Education,  discussion  on,  104-5. 

Egan,  J.,  kindness  of,  527. 

Eldridge,  biog.,  276. 

Elliott,  Minister,  meeting  with  Ban- 
croft, etc.,  530-3. 

Ellison,  S.,  material  fumisheilby,  7()3. 

Elwyn,  T.,  material  furnished  by, 
533. 


Kmcrson,  R.  W.,  meeting  witli  Ban« 

croft,  339. 
Estudillo,  ,1.  M.,  dictation  of,  526. 
Ktlioline.  <J(>v..  courtesy  of,  ()23. 
Evans,     E.,    material  furnished    by, 

.542,  620. 
E/quer,  I.,  dictation  of,  ,528. 


Pages,  rJov.  P.,  works  of,  442. 
Fall,  .r.  (_'.,  mention  of,  125. 
Farrelly,   Fatlier,  nuiterial  furnished 

by,  .-.28. 
Farwell,  S.,    material    furni.shed  by, 

535. 
Fernandez,  ('apt.,  nu^tition  of,  406. 
Fernandez,  |)r  U.,  ineiitinn  of,  7.'<8. 
Field,  .Iiulge,  meeting  with  Bancroft, 

4(il. 
Ficrro,  F.,  mention  of,  426. 
Fiulayson,  R.,    manuscript    of,   5'M, 

5:57  8. 
Fislier,  W.  M.,  at  Bancroft's  library, 

235- G;  biog.,  2(;i-3. 
Fitch,    Mrs,    material  furnished    by, 

4:?9. 
Fitzximons,   Fatlier,  information  fur- 
nished by,  020. 
Florcs,   J.  M.,  meeting  with  Cerruti, 

etc.,  40t-5. 
Ford,  manuscript  of,  648. 
Foster,  J.,  intormation  furnished  by, 

485. 
Foster,  S.  r.,  mention  of,  40:V-6. 
Fremont,    tien.    J.    t'.,  nteeting  with 

JJancroft,  4(i0-l;  negotiations  with 

Marriott,  etc.,  (i42-5. 
Friinont,    Mrs,    nu^cting    with   Ban- 
croft,   460-1 ;   correspondence  with 

Marriott,  643-4. 
Frisl)ie,   <len.,    material  promised  by, 

4:57. 

Fuentcs  y  Mufiiz,  .1.,  mention  of,  738. 
Ful'-,r,    F.,    ability,    etc.,    of,    237-8; 
biog.,  259-Gl. 


Galan,    Gov.,    at  Bancroft's   library, 

273,  563-4. 
'(ialaxy',  review  of  '  Native  Races ', 

351. 
Galindo,  C,  mention  of,  4,34. 
(Jalindo,  E.,  dict<ation  of,  ,524. 
tJiiray,  F.  de,  meeting  with  liancroft, 

etc.,  738. 
Garcfa,  I.,  dictation  of,  528. 
<Jilttiau,   D.   ('.,   proposes  removal  of 

library,    320-1;  review  of   'Native 


INDEX. 


808 


I 


Rnccs',  321-3;  corrcHpondenco  with 

HiiinTol't,  .'<")(). 
(;iliiii>ur,  .1,  11.,  in  BiinoroftH  employ, 

'2TJ:,  587-8. 
*()1(iIiih',  ri'view  of  'Native  Raceti', 

(idilkin,  meeting  with  Bancroft,  etc., 
;{4li,  ;{49. 

Golilxchmiilt,  A.,  at  Bancroft's  li- 
brary, 235,  5«:{.  571-5. 

Gomez,    A.,    tnaterial    collectuil    by, 

5-j:i-4. 

Gomez,  V.  P.,  liiog.,  274;  at  Ban- 
croft's lilirary,  274  5. 

Gonzalez,  Father,  uieuting  with  Ban- 
croft, 505. 

C'oiizalez,  President,  correspondence 
with  Bancroft,  t»24-5. 

Gonzalez,  It.,  dictation  of,  528. 

<:o(h1,  Itev.,  manuscrii)t  of,  if'M. 

Granville,  Ohio,  settlement  of,  50 -U; 
descript.  of,  80-7. 

Gray,  Dr.  A.,  meeting  witli  Ban- 
croft, 328,  ;i:m. 

Grillin,  G.  B.,  hiog.,  273. 

Grilling,  M.,  character,  etc.,  of,  45(>- 
8;  marriage  with  H.  H.  Biincroft, 
457-GO,  liter,  laliors,  458-1);  jour- 
nal, 4t)l;  arrival  in  San  Francisco, 
4()5-(i;  trip  to  Northern  Cal.,  1878, 
530-41);  material  obtained  by,  535- 
6;  trip  to  Utah,  etc.,  1884-5,  759-^;{. 

Greenbaum,  courtesy  of,  557. 

G  rover,  iSenator,  dictation  of,  545. 


H 


Hale,    E.    E.,    correspondence    with 

Bancroft,  etc.,  lUO. 
Ilaller,  information  furnished  by,  541. 
llamilten,  (piotation  from,  (i!S4. 
Hancock,  S.,  manuscript  of,  540. 
Hansford,  Mrs  A.  J.  manuscript of,541 
Harcoiirt,  T.  A.,  biog.,  2(i4-5. 
Harris,  courtesy  of,  530. 
Hartnell,  W.,  papers  of,  430-1;  biog., 

430-1. 
Harvey,  Mrs,  mention  of,  542. 
Hawes,  Father,  kindness  of,  524. 
Hawthorne,  Dr  J.«C,  mention  of,  543. 
Hawthorne,  N.,  mention  of,  14. 
Hayes,  Judge  B.,  Bancroft's  visit  to, 
"478-84;  Collection,  etc.,  of,  478-!S4, 

500-12,  .527,  571-2;  correspondence 

with  Bancroft,  510-12. 
Hcber,  11.,  library  of,  177. 
Helmcken,  l)r,  material  furnished  by, 

533;  appearance,  etc.,  of,  538-0. 
Heljts,    Sir  A.,  correspondence   with 

Bancroft,  357. 


Hernandez  y  Davalos,  J.  E.,  collec* 
tion,  etc.,  of,  TMi-l. 

Ilibben,  T.  N.,  courte-y  of,  5.30. 

Higginson,  T.  W.,  corrc-ipondoncii 
with  Bancroft,  etc.,  341-2. 

Hill,  N.  D.,  material  furiiislied  by,  540 

[lill,  information  funiishcd  by,  541. 

Hills,  (>.,  material  furnished  by,  535. 

Hillyer,  E.,  character,  etc.,  of,  I'S-l). 

History  Building,  erection,  etc.,  of 
The,  789,  7!)«. 

History  ( 'omjKiny,  organization  of 'I  hi  ■, 
78!)  !)0. 

'  History  of  the  Pacific  States,'  appre- 
ciation of  the,  12-b">;  iiiccjition  of 
Work,  l(i(>-74;  books  collected  for, 
]I7:M)7,  347,  351-;(,  478-.-)(il,  C.l.s  Ki, 
702-(>3;  jtreparation  of  ni.itcriMl, 
231-43,  581-5;  scope  of  work,  27.N- 
1),  2S()  S;  iiitrod.  to,  2S8,  201 ;  nuiue 
of  work,  315  Hi;  niaiuis<'i'ipts  jiro- 
cured  for,  .3S3-443,  4(>1  5,  4S7  IM), 
494  .")(}!,  028-40,  730,  701-2;  ar- 
chives,  408-83,  40.3  ,520,  513  4, 
558,  (i28,  701-2,  730,  740-7,  7C.:{; 
printing   and   publication,    5S(i  '.M, 

?ja-3. 

Holmes,  O.  W.,  correspoiulciicc  with 

Bancroft,  etc.,  .330  40,  .")70  SO. 
Hopkins,    11.    (".,    cnstodinn    of    (',il. 

archives,  400. 
Hiirton,  information  furnished  liy,5ll. 
Houghton,    H.    O.,    &   Co.,    publish. 

'  Jsative  Kaces,'  3;!(i. 
Howard,  Col,  courtesy  of,  4!)5. 
Howe,  ('.,  biog.,  etc.,  of.  51,  "4-5. 
Howe,  E.,  mention  of,  5-4. 
Howe,  J.,  biog.,  54. 
Howe,  L.  1).,  biog.,  etc.,  of,  50,  50-04. 
Howells,  meeting  Mitii  Bancrol't,  etc, 

330,  :M0-50. 
Hudson's  Bay  company,  employes  of, 

531. 
Hunt,   partner.-:liip   with    Bancroft   & 

Co.,  18.50,  MO. 


Icazbalceta,  J.  G.,  library,  etc.,    of, 

7:«-o. 

Iglcsias,     President,      i ting     with 

IJiincroft,  738. 
'Independent,'       reviews,       '\itive 

ll;ices, '  302. 
Index,  plan  of,  23S-40;  rosiilta  from, 

241;  a  universal  index,  213. 
Innokcntie,  Bishop,  courtesy  of,  (i  .'.i. 


Jackson,  E.,  mention  of,  358. 


8M 


INDEX. 


Jansfinns,  A.,  dictation  of,  fi2S. 
Jciiiiisori,  ('.  U.,  iiiuiilioii  of,  4.sy, 
Jiihiistuiie,  M.,  iiiiirriii^^o  of,  I("J7. 
JmitM,    ('.    ('.,    jiiii.,  rt'viow.-i  'Native 

it.iins.  •;«;■>'. 

JoiiriialiHiii,  iiilliiL'iiix>,  t'tc,  of,  .'tl  -10. 
Juarez,   ('a)it.   C,  material  jiroiui.scd 
liy,  4:{7-8. 


Kaslicrariif,  Father,  information  fur- 

ni-liiMl  liy,  iVil. 
Ki'llog,   iMins,  information  l>y,  't'A, 
Kell}',  in  J{aneroft'M  emiiloy,  512. 
Kinij),  A.,  I)iog.,  'J()7  8. 
KiMiny,    (r.    L.,    cliaraeti^r,     etc.,    of, 

117    IS;  voyage  to  Cal.,  IS.VJ,  11!)- 

'Jl;  partnor.'liip  witii  Coiike,  l."i4-.">, 

Itl;  with  lianoroft,  147 -.S,  lot. 
Ki'tihiini,  E.,  marriage  of,  l.")l-4. 
Kin^,  C,  charaeter  of,  31^;  mci'ting 

with  Hane'roft,  etc.,  lU.S-'.l;  ri'vie\vs 

'Naiive  J taeoM, '.'!.")(),  correspondence 

with  Bancroft,  .T)()-l. 
Kliukofstrom,  M.,  mention  of,  (i'Jl. 
Knight,   \V.   11.,   'Hand  liook  Alnia- 

iKn;,  17.'1;  connection  with  Bancroft's 

tirm,  17;«,  'il.S-llt. 
'  Kolnische  Zcitung,'  reviews  'Native 

Races,'  :US. 
Kra.szew.ski,  M.,  dictation  of,  .TJG. 


'La   lU'pulpli(iiip  Francaise,'   reviews 

'Native  itacus,';{i;'>. 
L.lluidio,  hiog.,  'J7.J. 
l-:uy,  llcv-.,  at  Crescent  City,  l.">8. 
Lam;,  (icii.  J.,  material  fiirnislied  hy, 

r.n,  0  17. 
Laiisdale,  ^I.,  information  fnrnished 

hy,  oil. 
Larkin,  A.,  mention  of,  4:{(). 
Larkiu,  11.,  mention  of,  'Jl'.i. 
Liirkin,  T.  0.,  hiog.,  4;{5;  documents, 

etc.,  of,  4l>."»-0. 
La'.ham,     iJr,     correspondence     with 

Bancroft,  ^50. 
Lawson,  .7.  S.,  manuscript  of,  .'540. 
'  l.,e  Temps,' reviews  'Native  llaces,' 

Xi). 
Locky,    W.    E.     H.,    correspondence 

wiili  Bancroft,  IJuii. 
Lcfevre,  11.,  corresp(mdence  of,  0-7. 
Leva.siicf,  Capt.,  in  Alaska.  17ti8,  .")7. 
Library,   tlie   Bancroft,   descri])t.    of, 

lOS  o4-t;  plans  and  cuts,  lOS,  -JOO- 

1 ,  •_•(»:;-,■),  '2i)l,  I'Oi),  -21 1 ;  statr,  lU.")  70. 
Literature,  evolntiou  of,  •!— 8;  in  Cal., 

12-41;  effect  of  climate  on,  :24-7; 


<if    wealth,    2T-TO;    of  journalism, 

:tl-40. 
Lomliurdo,  A.,  inontioii  of,  738. 
London,  i>ook  collections  of,  l.Sl-,T 
Long,    T.  II.,  in   Baiicrofi's   employ, 

r.:ti. 

L<ingfcllow,  H.  W.,  correspoudenco 
with  iJancroft,  etc.,  ,'<.'ll>  8. 

Longmans  &  Co.,  agents  for  'Native 
Races, '  ;C>4. 

Lon.-n/ana,  A.,  dictation  of,  528. 

Lovejoy,  A.  Ij.,  dictation  of,  "illj. 

Lowell,  .1.  R.,  meeting  witli  Bancroft, 
etc.,  .'tHu. 

Lidihock,  Sir.!.,  'Native  Races  '  dedi- 
cated to,  '.i'M. 

Luhiensky,  Count,  mention  of,  399. 

Lugo,  J.,  jiapers  of,  525. 

l.iitke,  Ailmiral,  cowrtesy  of,  6'J3. 


iM 


Madrid,  bookstores  of,  184. 

Maisonneuvo  et  Cie,  pui)lish  'Native 
Races, '.Stk). 

Malarin,  .L,  n.intion  of,  G47-8. 

Manero,  V.  K.,  mention  of,  738. 

Manuscripts,  Geu.  Valiojo's,  ;188  -433; 
Capt.  Fernandez',  400;  ( iov.  Alva- 
raclo's  408-27;  Castro's  415  20; 
Pico's  420,  525;  I'.studillo'.s,  427, 
520;  Thompson's,  t;'l»-  'lartiieU's, 
430-1;  J.  de  J  Vy,.jo's,  43.3-5; 
Larkin's,  435-0;  Ci,  t.  Juarez',  4.')7- 
8;  (leu,  Nutter's  401-5,  521;  (!en. 
Bandini's,  4.87-1)0;  Warner's,  4'.l4-5, 
525;  Judge  Sepiilveda's,  495;  W'id- 
ney's,  495;  \' ihkls',  490-7,  528; 
Arna/',  490-7,  528;  Taylor's,  498-9; 
iSanta  Barbara  mission,  500-8; 
Judge  JIaycs',  478-84,  509-12; 
Guerra's,  517-22;  Galindo's,  524; 
Amador's,  524;  Coronel's,  525;  Re- 
quena's,  .525;  CarriUo's,  .525;  Lugo 'a, 
525;  Wilson's,  5'JO;  Vega'.s,  520; 
Perez',  520;  Vejar's,  520;  White's, 
520;  Romero's,  52(i;  Foster's,  520; 
Avila's,  520;  Kras/cwski's,  .520; 
Osuma's,  520;  Botello's,  5*27;  Valle's, 
527-8;  Onl's,  528;  Jansenns',  528; 
Lorenzana's,  528;  (ionzalez',  52h; 
Nidever's,  528;  (Jarcia's,  528; 
Escpier's,  528;  iSproat's,  533;  Pem- 
hertou's,  533;  Asli's,  533;  Comp- 
ton's,  534;  Mnir's,  .5.34;  Allen's,  534; 
Deans',  .5;i4;  Aiulerson's,  5.'!4-8;  Tol- 
mie's,  5.34;  Finlayson's,  5:54,  5;>7  8; 
McKiiday's,  5'M;  Cliarles',  5.';5; 
(rood's,  5;iO;  Tod's,  53()-7;  McKni- 
lay's  536-7j  Swan's,  540;   Bokke- 


iNi>i;\. 


8o:i 


Inn's,  .Vlft;  I.nwsoi.'s,  MO;  Parker's, 

541 :  liiiiii.'M,  "»tH,  .")47;  (imvcr's,  54.5; 

^(!.siiiitli  s,   54ti;   Moris',    r)4(>;  l^ovo- 

Jd/'h,  ri4li;  IJiioim's,  r>-Ki;  Kmits',  ")♦(>; 

ju..gu  lii'iuly's,  ")t();  .luclj^i)Stn>iig's, 

tiU'r,  Kins',  ,">47;  Kviiiifi',  (WO;  I'nw- 

ors".  (I'Jl;  Oslo's,  GJ7-'^;  Fonl's,  (US; 

Deiiipstrr's,    (il'iO;    Bliixonio's,    (>(i(); 

("oliMiuiH,,  (■(()();  Dill/',  7.'U);  Wood- 

ruU's.  7i>l;  lliclianls',  701;  Stone's, 

7(i-'. 
Marriage,  reniurks  on,  440-56. 
Marriott,    <ir.,     I'orrcsjKiiidenco     with 

tiie  Kri'inoiit's,  04.'t  ."). 
Marvin,  I'"..,  lourtesy  of,  altO. 
Martinez,  M.  K.,  mention  of,  '275-0. 
Mas.saeliiisetts       Historical     Soeiety, 

ISiineroft,  lion.  niiMulier  of,  .'{(il. 
Mast,  C.  L.,  niaturiul   furnished    liy, 

04'2. 
Maximilian,   Emperor,   library,    etc., 

of,  1«8. 
Mayer,  B.,  mention  nf,  'M'i;  meeting 

with  Baneroft,  4()1. 
Mc.Vuley,  L.,  material  fnrninlied  by, 

(i:<l. 
Mclntyre,  information  furnished  hy, 

;").")4;  mummy  jiresented  hy,  5.")"; 
McKay,  material  furnished  by,  ri.")4. 
McKiiday,  A.,    manuscript,   etc.,  of, 

i-):{4  7. 
McKinncy,  clerk,  courtesy  of,  i>'24. 

Mclhi  <,  diary  of,  iV_*7. 

Mexico,  libraries,  etc.,  of,  IS.")  91, 
701  :{,  7!!."),  740-."!;  material  for 
hist,  of,  0"_'7  .S,  7(KI-.">I;  deserijit. 
sketch  of,  7<K)-.')3;  staging  in,  707- 
10;  treasure  trains,  71 1 ;  liacicnd.as, 
711;  agricult.,  711  12;  gambling, 
etc.,  7-4  .");  marriage,  7-r>-(»;  nian- 
ufact.,  7-7  S;  trallic,  etc.,  7-8-;il; 
superstition,  7.'$7. 

Mexico,  Citj',  deseript.  of,  712-33; 
libraries  of,  740-7. 

Minor,  DrT.,  meniion  of,  MO. 

Minto,  J.,  information  furnislied  by, 

r)45. 

Minto,  Mrs,  information  furnishfd 
by,  -.4,-^. 

Mitropolski,  Father,  material  fur- 
nished by,  r»r)4. 

iloney,  u»e  and  abuse  of,  1(M)-.'1. 

Montana,  material  for  hist,  ol.  Oil   'J. 

Montard,  Father,  material  furnished 
by.  'mI. 

Morgan,  Minister,  Bancroft's  meeting 

with.  7:u. 

Mora.  Bishop,  material  furnished  by, 
5-O-0. 


Moreno,   Scftora,   matcri.il    furnishod 

by,  5'-'0-7. 
Mormonism,  031-40,  7'>!t  01. 
-Morrison,  (i.  If.,  biog..  I'Xt  6. 
.Morton,   .Mrs   L.,    material  furnished 

by,  r,4S.  _ 
Nbiss,  S.  \V.,  dilatation  of,  ."iJO, 
Muir,  M.,  dictation  of,  't'M. 
Murray,    K.    F.,   emidoyed   by  .Tudgo 

Hayes,    510  12;  by  Hancroft,   5i:t 

'JH;  material    collected    by,  513-'J3, 

rc's. 

Mut,  Father,  eonrtuay  of,  5*27. 


N 


Naranjo,  0-en,,  mention  of,  7^^. 

'  Nation, "reviews  '  Native  Races,'  351. 

'Native  Kaces  of  tlie  I'ai'itic  States,' 
plan  of  tlie,  '2".t5  ;{0I;  elaboration, 
30'2  4;  contents,  303;  work  on  tlie, 
304  5;  ])ublicatioii,  .'iOO  'Jli;  reviews, 
etc.,  31(i  •2.">,  X\H,  341  '2,  .TiO  I, 
3.")7-()4;  cuts,  .^(iO;  tyjic,  etc.,  i>C>'.)- 
70;  coiimletion  of,  570  HI. 

Xeiiios,  W.,  at  Bancroft's  library, 
•SAH,  -243,  '2'.K),  .')05,  .kS7;  biog.,  251- 
5. 

Nesinith,  J.  W.,  manuscript,  etc.,  of, 
540. 

New  Mexico,  material  for  hist,  of, 
<>'28,  703. 

Newkirk,  E.  P.,  biog.,  L'(l(i-!». 

Niile»er,  dictation  of,  .")"2S. 

Norilholl',  ('.,  mention  of,  l'2;  meeting 
with  Bancr.ift,  340. 

'North  Ainiiican  Review,' on  Ban- 
croft's Work".  338. 

Northwest  coast,  material  for  hist,  of, 
0'2o  1. 

Nutchuks,  legend  of  the,  555-(). 

0 

Oak,  H.  L.,  editor  of  the  'Occident,' 
■21!);  Bancroft's  librarian,  •2'20-4, 
•2-2\\.  'SM,  •2:t8,  •24.3,  41.3.  42 1  5,  VM, 
474  7,  513  14,  .")():{,  571,  .'iN7,  O-4'.t; 
biog.,  24(;  51,  C.'.IO  1;  trip  to  south- 
ern' Cal.,  478  ,")08. 

Oak,  O.,  at  Bancroft's  library,  23.5 

Oca,  Bishop  1.  .M.  (Ic,  library  of,  701. 

Ogden,  P.  .S.,  mention  of,  ,'',37. 

O'Keefe,  Father,  mention  of,  505. 

Olaguibel,  Seflor,  'Impresioncs  (Vle- 
I      bre9,'748. 

01  vera.  A.,  meeting  with  Bancroft, 
etc.,  492-3. 

Olvera,  L'.,  collection  of,  529, 

Old,  Mrs,  dictation  of,  ,V28. 


806 


INDEX. 


Oref;<in,  material  fur  lii.it.  of,  541-51, 

CtlO-tiM. 
Ortoga,  Sofior,  library  of,  701. 
Osio,  inanuisuript  «>f,  G47-  8. 
Osiinia,  J.,  (liotation  of,  5*2(5. 
'Ovorland  ;\loiithly,' reviews,  etc.,  of 

Biiucroft's  works,  314-15,  319-24. 


I'ach«''co,  <"!en.  C,  mention  of,  738. 
I'.ilacio,  V.  U.,  library,  etc.,  of,  735. 
I'alfrey,  J.  <!.,  meeting  witii  Bancroft, 

etc.,  .S:i'_>-3, 
Palinor,  (1.,  mention  (if,  132. 
Talincr,  H.,  acath  of,  \:V2. 
P.ilnior,  (Ion.  J.,  dictation  of,  54I>-0. 
I'alnier,  Mr.-',  ni'o  lUncroft,  see  Ban- 
croft, E. 
T'llou,  Fatl.cr  F.,  works  of,  411,  441. 
I'arkcr,  ('apt.,  dictation  of,  541. 
Tarknian,     K.,      rcview.s    Bancroft's 

works,  etc.,  .^1S. 
Pariscr,  .lanios  A.,  mention  of,  708. 
I'arrisli,  niissiimary  labors  of,  545. 
Pavlcif,    information    fiirui.shud    by. 

654  5. 
Pa/,  I  ,  mention  r.f,  7.'U-5. 
IVatlitld,  .1.  .1.,  bioy.,  '2(i5-7. 
Pciid)i'rt(iii,  J.  I).,  material  furnished 

by,  533. 
Pcralla,   F..  Ccrruti's   meeting  with, 

etc. ,  400- 1 . 
Pei-ez,  A.,  dictation  of,  52G. 
Petniir.  1.,  biof.'.,  270-2;  trip  to  Alaska, 

5."i|-(il ;  material  procured  liy,  553-i)I. 
Pettii,'rove,    material    furni.slied    by, 

540. 
Phelps,  S.,  Tncntiim  of,  50-1. 
Piiil.idelpliia     iS'iiniisinatic      Society, 

Bancroft  lion,  mendier  of,  .301, 
Pliini[)s,  W. ,  meeliiii;and  correspond- 

eiico  witli  Bancroft,  etc.,  330-7. 
Pico,  A.,  ]>leasaiitrv,  4!tO  3. 
I'ico,  C,  material  fiirnisbtd  by,  528. 
Pico,  J.  ih'  .1.,  courtesy  of,  528. 
Pico,  J.   1!.,    material   furni.shed   by, 

42t). 
Pico,  M.  I.,  courtesy  of.  .'28. 
I'ico,  P.,  dictation  of,  525. 
I'lna,  M.,  at  Bancrofts  library,  275. 
I'iirut,  A.  L.,  material  furnished  by, 

021   2,  027;  biog.,  022. 
Pinto,  11.,  collection  of,  .V2!). 
IMuniiner,  material  furnished  by,  540. 


I 


oinerov. 


T. 


mention  of.   139-41. 


'  PopubirTiibiiuals,' preparation, etc.,  ;  San    V 


Powell,    Major,   mcoting    with  Ban- 
croft, 4(il. 

I'owcrs,  .S.,  manuscript  of,  021. 

Pratt,  <r.,  character,  etc.,  of,  48. 

Pratt,  C).,  correspondence,  etc.,  with 
Bancroft,  037-8. 

Prieto,  meeting  witli  Bancroft,  73S. 

Pryor,  P.,  kindntrss  of,  527. 

Pni'bla,  (,'ity,  libraries,  etc.,  of,  74S- 
51. 

R 

[{ailroads.  overlaml,  efiect  of,  on  liusi- 

ness,   104-"). 
Ramirez,   ,1.  F.,  sale  of  library,  l'.>4 

G. 
Read,   E.,  agent  for  '  Native   Races,' 

.■i.-)3  4. 
'Record  Union.' article  on  Bancroft's 

coliectiiin,  310. 
Rccjuena,  M..  jiapers  of,  525. 
R<'\illa     (iigedo.     Count,     collection 

made  by,  742  3. 
'Revue     Ihitannicjue,'     on     'Nati\c 

Races,"  300. 
'Revue    Litteraire   et    Politicpie,'   on 

'Native  Races,"  300. 
Riclianls,   F.    1).,    visit  to  Bancroft, 

etc.,  1880,  030  1. 
Rielianls,     (lov.,     mention     of,    530; 

mceliug  witli  Bani'roft,  etc.,  532. 
Rico,  F.,  MU'iitiou  of,  523. 
Ripley.  <!.,  mention  of,  34(). 
Rivas,  A.  iM..  mati'rial  furni.died  by, 

020. 
Roliinsrtn,  A.,  mention  of,  48!). 
liolison.    .1.,    material    furnished   li\', 

535. 
RoUius,  H.  (J,,  mention  of,  471. 
RiiiiuTo,  .1.  .M.,  dictation  of,  520. 
Homo.    F.ithcr,    ap]iearance   of,    505; 

iiiectiug     with      liaiicroft,       '){)'>  S; 

materi.i!   furuislied  l>v.  ."i05  S,  5b")- 

18. 
Rosborougli,  .1.  IV,  mention  of,  .")4S. 
Roscoc,  F.  .).,  matcM'ial  furnished  l)y, 

535. 
Ross,  .1.  E.,  dictation  of,  547. 
Ronsscl,  Father,  euurtesy  of,  .528. 
Ruliio,  .1.,  mention  of,  741. 
Riibio,    .M.    R.,    I'iiaracter,    etc.,     of, 

730. 


Salas,  .1.  M.  de,  mention  of,  743. 


[)f  tlie.  0.55-03. 


Pnr'er.  Prehideiit,  meeting  with  Ban-    Siu  F 
vroft,  348. 


40S.  473. 


ernando   (.'ollege,  arclnve^i  at. 


aiicisco,  descript.  of,  1852,  121- 


indp:x. 


807 


San   Tiiiis    Potosi,   state  library  of, 

7(12  ;<. 

Siiiiulu^z,  J.,  mention  f)f,  I'.iS  it. 
Sjinik'rs,  W.  F.,  (.'oiTospoiuionce  with 

Hiunn.ft,  tin   '2. 
Sai<j;iiit,  Sfiiator  A.  A.,  mention  of, 

:&2. 

iSiivaKf,  T.,  'liog.,  2r>r)-9;  Bancroft's 
assistant.  470  ;{,  .VJIM);  niutcriul 
(•uli,.rt.(l  l)y,  -.•_':!-<). 

Sawyer,  ('.  H.,  mention  of,  435. 

Seliiefiier.  A.,  courtcsj'  of,  (i'2l    '2. 

'  .Srriliuers  Montiily,' reviews  '  Native 
ltaces.;UI-2. 

Seudiier.  meeting  witli  Bancroft,  etc., 

.s:«). 

.^ei,'liers.  Bishop,  material  furnished 
liy,  r).">7. 

."^elva,  ('.,  material  furnislied  Ky,  (!'_'.">. 

Se[inl\eda.  Judge,  mention  ot,  4S'.>, 
inaniis(Tii>t  of.  40"). 

Serra,  h'atlier  .).,  mention  of,  441; 
ski.teh  of  ."^an  Uiego  mission.  4.S(). 

Siiaslinikof,  l"';ither  J.,  material  fur- 
nished liy,  .">")7  '.•. 

Short,  <len.  J'.,  mention  of,  4.S1. 

Silieeo,  L.,  mention  of.  7.'i'S. 

Simi>son,  S.  L.,  mention  of,  274. 

.^laden,    t'ol,   material   furnislied    l>y, 

Smith,  O.,  mention  of.  ,">.'");). 
Solier.'ini's,  in  Banerolt  s  eiiiiiloy,  41.") 

2:{. 

Society  of  Califoniia  I'ioiieers.  ma- 
terial funiishecl  liy,  ()|<». 

Sola,  (!ov.  1'.  \'.  de,  mention  of,  442. 

.*<osa,  K.,  mention  of,  7''f"). 

Spaulding,  Itev.  II.  II.,  «orks  of,  ").")!. 

Spencer,  11..  corres|)iindcuce  with 
Bancroft.  ;C)('i.  ;i('.2. 

Spencer,  \V.  (1.,  material  fui-nishcd 
l.y,  .")!(>. 

.*<p(iirord.  meeting  with  Bancroft,  etc., 
:!.")! -2.   1(11. 

Sproat,  '■.  M..  mauusciiiit  of,  ."It,'!, 

Sipiier,  K.  (i..  lil.rary  oi.  ISCi  4;  col- 
lection purchased  hy  Bancroft,  (W.l 

:ii. 

S-iOotchetnces,  legend  of  the,  ,').").")  (i. 

Stanton.  K.  M.,  mention  of,  4l>!l. 

Stafeifk.  informal iuu  fiii-nislicd  liv. 
,-).".4. 

Stcarn«,  .Mrs,  mention  of,  4Ss. 

Stevens.  II.,  library  of,  IIW;  mate- 
rials procured  liy,  I '.Hi. 

Stew.irt,  (I.  W'..  malcrial  furnished 
hy.  (i:il. 

Stone,  iludge,  marmscript  of,  7l)2. 

iStuuu,   N.   J.,  niuuagur  uf  [)ubli.->liiug 


<lcp,artmpnt,     5SG-7,     700,    70.'!  .">; 

l.iog.,  70:{-4. 
Strong,  .ludgo  \V.,   mention  of,    ")I2; 

dictation  of,  .">4t). 
Stuart,  <i.,  material  furnisin'd  hy.  (III. 
Sutter.   <icn.    .1.    .\..    Bancrofts  vi>it 

to,  4()l  .");  manuscrijit  furni>lud  hy. 

4(1"). 
Swan,    Judge    .1.    (I,,    material    fur- 
nislied    hy,     r)4();      correspondence 

with  Bancroft,  (120-1. 


T.'ims,  S., 'mention  of,  4:«(). 

Taylor,    DrA.  S..    liamroft's  visit  ti>. 

407   ")0I{;  cnllectiou   an<l    \V(prks    ..f, 

40S  ,-)()(). 
Taylor,  fl.,   eorri-;]iondcncc  with  llan- 

croft,  etc.,  (i:i7  0.  7(10. 
Tiiompson,     materials     fui'iii-lied    1p\, 

420. 
Tiior'.iton,  .1.  Kf.,  nu'Ution  of.  "i4."i. 
'Times'    (Lomlon),   reviews    'Native 

Itaces ',  ;i."i'S. 
Tocl,    .1.,    nianuscriiit,   etc.,   of,  .'illd  7. 
T'olmie,  W.  F..  maniiscTipt  of,  .");!4. 
Toluca,  lihraiy  of,  747. 
Toro,  .1.,  mention  of,  7.')S. 
Toi'res.    \'.    (i..    journal,  etc.,  of,  7.'1"). 
Tourgce,  A.  \\  .,  imulion  of,  7(17  s. 
Trevi'tt.  M..  marriage  of,   l,"i(. 
Trcvett,  Mrs.  in'e   Bancroft,   see  Ban- 
croft, .M. 
Trunran.  .Majoi-,  lucnlinn  of,  4S0. 
Tiiriier,  I..,  iufiirmatioM  furni  lied  hy, 

.").")7. 
Tutliill,    F.,    •  llistorv  '<{  «'alifnrM'.i  ", 

:tii. 

Tylor,    ]•].     B..     i-orrc>|ii>ndi  net     wilh 
'Bancroft.  ;!.")0  (10. 


U 


I'liaeli,    Father,    cullection,    etc.,    uf, 

IS."). 

Utah,    material    for   hist,    of,   (IXl   41, 
7oO  (II. 


Vald.'s,    R.,  dii'tatiou  of,  400  7.  .■i2.S. 
\  allart.i.  F.  B.,  Mieiiliou  of,  7.'tS. 
Valle.   I.  del,  (hctatioli,  etc.,  of,  ."27    S. 
\alic|n.   I.,  hi. ■!.'..   110  -2. 
Valhjo.   .1.  ,1'  .1.,  dictation,  el  •..  of. 
i:!;i  .". 

Vallejo,  (ien.  M.  de  '!.,  hi..u.  etr,,  of, 
."(7(1  S2:  Bah.i-ofl's  ni  L'ol  1,1  f loll ■<, 
etc,     witii,     'Mli  00;      'lli.aunadu 


808 


INDEX. 


California'  iV[S.,  390-8,  428-43; 
tour  of,  40.">-((;  iiegotiatiouM,  eto., 
witli  Alvarailo,  40S  |-J;  'Recuenlos 
Historiuos'  Ms.,  413;  correspdu- 
ilence  witli  Baiu-roft.  4It>  17,  4'J9- 
32,  43(!"43;  iiitercourso  witli  Cer- 
riiti,  4'_'S-3!). 

Vallujo,  .Major  S.,  mcntioH  of,  387-8. 

Vc'^/a,  Con.  P.,  iiKitorial  furnislied 
l»y,  (V27-8. 

Vuga,  v.    dictation  of,  u'iO. 

N\jar,  P.,  dictation,  etc.,  of,  526. 

Vcnianiinof,  J.,  conrtcsy  of,  (523. 

Victor,    Mrs   F.    F.,  nee  Fuller,    see 

Fuller,  F. 
Vigil,  J.  M.,  mention  of,  738,  740. 

Mia,    Father   J.,    Bancroft's  vi.sit  to, 

503-4. 
Villarasa,  Father,  material  furnished 

liy,  G2ti  7. 
Vowel,    A.    W.,    material  furnislied 

by,  533. 


W 


Walden,   J.,    catalogue  prepared   liv 

ISl,  l!)(i-7. 
\N':(ldo,  1).,  mention  of,  544-5. 

Walker,  J  ,  relation.s  with  liaucroft, 
3l'7. 

Warner,  C.  D.,  introduction  to  Ban- 
croft, etc.,  328,  303. 


Warner,  J.  ,T.,  *Rominisccnccs',  494-5. 

AVatts,  F.,  inarriage  of,  155. 

Watts,  .Judge  .).   S.,   mention  of,  15,"). 

\\  elcli,  C,  at  Bancroft's  library,  272. 

West,  Capt,  mention  of,  40<j. 

Whitaker,  J.,  mention  of,  181;  hooks 
purdiased  hy,  190  2;  correspon- 
dence with  Bancroft,  19,5-7. 

White  K.,  material  furnished  by,  543. 

White  M.,  dictation  of,  ,52(j. 

Whittier,  .T.  (}.,  meeting  with  Biin- 
croft,  etc.,  .337-8. 

Whynipet,  F.,  mention  of,  313. 

AV^idney,   R.    M.,  manuscript  of,  495. 

A\'ilghtnee,  legend  of,  55(). 

Willey,  l)r  H.  S.,  courtesy  <,f.  «48. 

^Vil.sou,  B.  1).,  dictation  of,  52(i. 

Winsor,  .J.,  'Narrative  and  Critical 
History  of  America'.  7(;4"8. 

W^oodruti;  W.,  material  furnished 
by,  7liO  I. 

Wyoming,  material  for  hist,  of,  762-.3. 


■^'esler,  information  furnished  by,  541, 
Yudico,  J.,  mention  of,  738. 


Zakharof,   information   furnished  by, 

554. 
Zaldo,  11.  de,  mention  of,  399. 


